


More For The Future

by Sarahhannigan



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bellarke, Child Abandonment, Dad!Bellamy, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Kid Fic, Mom!Clarke, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahhannigan/pseuds/Sarahhannigan
Summary: There is peace with the Grounders, the Ark is still in space, Mount Weather isn't a threat, A.L.I.E doesn't exist and impending doom isn't lurking just beyond.Life on Earth was treating the delinquents surprisingly well and everything was as normal as it could be. That is until Bellamy leaves camp for the day and comes back with a kid, a thought and an overwhelming realisation.(Or the one where Bellamy and Clarke raise a kid in a completely platonic manner. Well, kinda)





	1. Chapter 1

It started with a scuffle of rocks then a shriek. In the darkness of a damp cave sat a tired and obviously not alone Bellamy. He was up on his feet in matter of seconds, half willing to run and half willing to fight. It had to be a grounder, in fact, he knew it was a grounder. No one else even ventured into these parts of the woods except the inhabitants of a small village not too far from here. They were friendly enough, occasionally trading much needed supplies but other than that they were rarely seen. 

"Who's there?" Bellamy's voice boomed around the emptiness of the rock cave. His voice being surprisingly steady given he had just been given the fright of his life. 

When there was no reply Bellamy reached into his pack and produced a small torch, something that he had found only hours earlier in yet another bunker. It was solar powered so he didn't have to worry about faulty batteries, and although the light provided was dull it still allowed him to get an idea of what was in the cave with him. 

Taking a step forward he turned it on and quickly suppressed a gasp when he finally caught glimpse of the creature that blinked back at him. Hunched in the corner, was the shadow of a child, pushing themselves further and further against the cold stone wall of the damp cave. Rocks shuffled under their bare feet and when they couldn't go any further they allowed a whimper to slip from their lips before turning absolutely silent. 

Neither of them spoke, the child too afraid of the stranger and Bellamy too shocked to even form a singular word. 

The light was not bright enough to see their whole petrified state but he could tell by the way they whimpered and the complexion of their skinny face that they had been abandoned. 

Thickly he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat before crouching. Bellamy wasn't an overly tall person but compared to this kid he must've seemed like a giant, a thing from nightmares cornering the child before making an attack. At least now, at the same level, he could try and communicate with the youngster. 

"Hey," he eased gently, keeping his distance to not scare the figure anymore than he should. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you." 

The way he was speaking was completely different from his normal tone, the tone everyone back at camp was use to hearing. Gruff, deep, annoyed and anger filled. When asked about Bellamy's tone those words would probably come to mind. He was someone that was either yelling, cursing or so seemingly agitated that he couldn't even form a singular word. He was that kind of leader, the one who scared you into following orders. But right now he was alone and right now he didn't have a reputation to uphold. He could be gentle, he could be caring and yeah, maybe, just maybe, he could be soft. 

When he was met with silence he tried again, whispering gently and moving just inches closer. "My name is Bellamy," he spoke but the movement forward wasn't well received. Quickly, the youngster pushed themselves backwards, feet skidding on rocks and sliding out underneath them. A quick, high pitched sound was produced before Bellamy drew back. 

Holding his hands out in the form of surrender he sighed. "Sorry," he whispered, leaning back on his heels before eventually sitting down cross legged metres away. "I'll stay right here."

For some reason Bellamy felt obliged to stay. Of course he could've just walked away and pretended the kid was never there but this kid needed help. This kid, whoever they belonged to, was sure to die without him. 

For a while there was silence, nothing heard except quick breathing produced by the child paired with the slow breathing of Bellamy. Then, conveniently Bellamy's stomach began to growl. If the kid didn't think he was a monster before, they sure as hell did now.

Bellamy'd left camp just after breakfast, telling those who needed to know that he wouldn't be back until dinner. He hadn't packed much thinking that he would, in fact, be back by dinner but by the hunger that gnawed at his stomach he realised that dinner must've been hours ago. 

Slowly Bellamy began unzip his pack and after rummaging around he produced a small burlap pouch. Inside were a dozen cherries that some girl had personally handed to him when he walked towards the gate earlier that day. Somehow he was always receiving gifts from people he hardly knew the names of. Some were meant to entice him to invite them into his tent during the night and others simply wanted to get on his good side. Either way he didn't care, he was getting gifts. And he'd always been a sucker for gifts. 

Bellamy produced one of the firm, plump red coloured fruit and placed it in his mouth, honestly surprised to discover how sweet it was as he bit into it. He didn't have time to enjoy it though because all too quickly it had vanished. After spitting out the stone he licked his lips and produced another, only this one didn't make it to his mouth. Instead he held it in his fingers and gently spoke. "Here." He rolled the cherry across the floor, watching as it stopped right in between the two of them. "I know you're hungry." 

It took only a few moments before he saw the shadow creep closer and swipe the fruit quickly before retreating back to their safe corner. With a small smile Bellamy lifted another to his mouth and chewed it slowly. 

He was completely immersed in the new and exciting taste of the completely foreign fruit that he didn't hear as the child crept closer. It was only as they spoke, their voice barley a whisper in the darkness that he snapped out of his trance and looked up. 

"More," they croaked, and although Bellamy still couldn't fully see the kid he knew that she was a girl. Her voice gentle and light as it travelled in the air. 

"Of course," Bellamy beamed because finally he had managed to make her begin to trust him. "Have them all," and with that he held out the burlap bag. For her to reach it she would have to come closer into the light, finally exposing herself to Bellamy. 

There was a quick pause, the little girl probably calculating the risk of trusting a complete stranger, but the offering of food eventually swayed her and before long she was creeping forward. 

Inch by inch, the child came into light. Feet first, then body, and all of a sudden every part of her small frame could be seen. She was roughly three, maybe four years of age and was nothing more than a muddled mess of protruding bones and jagged edges, legs thinner than matchsticks and ribs threatening to break the surface of her filthy skin. Her cheeks were hollow and eyes so sunken that if it wasn't for her tan complexion she might've been mistaken for a ghost. A large bruise lay in stark contrast in and around the socket of her left eye while a small amount of grazing lined the skin of her right cheek. Her blue eyes drifted to Bellamy's then to the bag before she quickly grabbed it, deciding not to retreat backwards like before but instead devour the cherries right in front of him. 

As she ate Bellamy examined her further. 

The little girls dirty blonde hair lay ratty and tangled on her shoulders, jagged and cropped short in some places while being allowed to grow much longer in others, twigs and leaves throughly knotted themselves within. Dirt and what seemed to be dried blood had caked itself on her thin face while her lips were cracked, bleeding and slightly parted to allow herself to draw small, quick breaths in between swallowing and chewing. 

When the bag was empty and she had swallowed the last of the fruit she locked eyes with Bellamy. At first her features were soft, silently thanking him for the quick meal he had provided but then her expression changed. At first Bellamy didn't know what was happening, but then, almost instantly he was informed. 

Her whole body heaved before a mess of red, half chewed cherries splattered on the cave floor, exiting her mouth before she began to cough. 

Yeah, he probably shouldn't have given her so much food at once. She needed to be reintroduced, given meals much smaller before consuming larger amounts. If Clarke was here she would've scolded him, probably called him an uneducated asshole and clipped him over the ear. But the little girl had practically begged and all other thoughts went out the window when she finally spoke. 

The youngster spluttered and continued to worry as she locked eyes with Bellamy yet again. Perhaps in her young mind she believed that Bellamy was responsible for making her do that, for making her puke. But still there was a part of her that was unsure. He had given her food and he hadn't beaten her...yet.

With a sigh Bellamy opened his arms gently and softly nodded. "Come here sweetheart," he whispered and slowly but surely she edged her way forward on all fours, coming within inches of him before stopping, unsure of what to do next. She kept her eyes locked on his and he kept his arms wide open. With another small nod he continued to beckon her but still, she was uneasy. He couldn't blame her really, after a life of probable torture and abandonment he would also be unsure of who to trust. 

She bit her lip to stop it from trembling but her eyes were beginning to glass over. She was only a child, scared and alone in this cruel world. Like any, she needed some reassurance that nothing, or more likely no one was going to hurt her anymore. "I've got you," Bellamy eased and allowed the smallest of smiles to spread across his lips. It was a real smile too, not forced or plastered in faux encouragement. 

It was just moments later that the girl, most likely unaccustomed to such kindness finally broke, sobbing loudly, her cries tearing at her throat as Bellamy enveloped her in a warm embrace. 

He held her tight. He needed her to know she was safe, that he wasn't going to hurt her, he was never going to let anyone do that ever again. "Shhhhh," he whispered even as she continued to wail. "I've got you." 

Bellamy pressed one hand on her bare, bruised back and the other on the crown of her head and simply held her while she dug her face into the crevice of his neck and shoulder. Her skin was as cold as ice and her shivers shook her entire body as her tears seeped through the material of Bellamy's thin shirt. 

In the space of thirty minutes Bellamy had gained the trust of a grounder, a child left behind by the product of a cruel world. 

With his jacket around her body and her head resting sleepily on his shoulder he began to make his way back to camp, walking slowly and allowing the little girl to succumb to exhaustion. Her tiny, almost nonexistent breaths hit his bare skin as her frail hands clung to his neck, holding on tightly even though she was fast asleep. He was her staple now, the only thing keeping her alive and he sure as hell wasn't going to be letting her down anytime soon.

He couldn't bring himself to think about how she got the bruising or the grazes. He couldn't bring himself to think about how light she felt in his arms or how her bones were managing to dig into him. All he thought about was getting her back to camp, getting her checked over by Clarke and looking after her for as long as she needed. 

But there was another question that still loomed in the back of his sleepy mind. 

What the hell were a group of delinquents going to do with a kid? 

Clarke and himself could only just manage leading a bunch of teenagers let alone throwing a child into the mix. And yet, there was something that led Bellamy to believe that maybe a bunch of teenagers could in fact raise a kid. After all, it takes a village to raise a child and they had one hell of a village. 78 criminals aged 14 to 22, all living together in a small camp mainly kept alive by new founded alliances with the grounders and the leadership of Clarke and himself. They slept in tents, drinking moonshine, eating nature and being free. They occasionally got drunk and partied, some secretly smoked a collection of herbs Monty and Jasper had rolled while others hunted, gathered and kept watch.

After the original threat of Grounders and the death of many during the war they had with them they were eventually at peace. No other threats were currently looming and no other battle plans were being made. Life on Earth was so much better than space. Space was were the rest of the ark population was currently orbiting, completely unaware that the delinquents they sent down nearly six months ago were even alive. Of course they could've tried to communicate with the Ark even after all the wrist bands were fried upon landing. But there had been a vote and to no ones surprise, they decided to keep their lives in this strange paradise a secret. It might've been selfish, maybe even a little cruel but they honestly didn't care. They had been locked up for the pettiest of crimes, and now they were free. And if Bellamy believed they could raise a child then yeah, they were going to raise a goddamn child. 

Roughly half an hour later the sounds of the bustling camp could be heard and soon enough the faint glow of torches and lanterns stood out in the darkness of the forrest. A singular guard stood out the front of the main gate and luckily it was someone Bellamy knew fairly well. 

"Jasper," Bellamy called firmly but quietly, feeling as the little girl began to shuffle unconsciously to find a more comfortable position in his arms. 

The lanky guard raised his eyebrows at the sight he saw as he began slowly walking towards his leader. With eyes solely glued on the child and expression full of confusion he breathed a simple question. "Where the hell did you get a kid from?" 

With a roll of his eyes and a small snort Bellamy absentmindedly held onto the child a little tighter as he swayed side to side. "Found her," he whispered, and for now that was all the information Jasper was going to get. 

It must've been a strange sight. Bellamy, a gruff, strong, hard to please and ultimately intimidating leader was now cradling a young girl in his arms. His voice being the softest it had ever sounded, and his features even more relaxed. He looked like a dad, holding onto his daughter as she slept on his shoulder, ultimately scaring Jasper as he thought about how well he fit into that role. 

"Have you seen Clarke?" Bellamy asked gently. 

Finding Clarke was his best option right now. She was a trained medic and his co-leader. She'd be able to help nurse this kid back to health all the while keeping her safe and sheltered from harm. 

"Yeah," Jasper replied, finally meeting Bellamy's gaze. "Saw her 'bout ten minutes ago, storming around camp tryna find you. She said she'll kill you when she does." 

Yep, that sounded like Clarke.

Bellamy huffed a laugh, switching from one foot to the other before shaking his head. "Can you tell her to meet me outside? It's uh-" he softly nodded his head towards the sleeping girl on his shoulder before sighing. "It's urgent." 

With a singular nod and a final glance at the girl Jasper began retreating backwards, disappearing through the camp gates only to return a couple of minutes later with a very worried Clarke in tow. 

She had taken only a few steps from the boundary wall until she spotted the two and became frozen in place. Eyes bulged and jaw dropped she simply stared at the skinny creature that clung to Bellamy's neck. 

"Thanks Jasper," Bellamy announced, largely hinting that his presence was no longer needed. He fled almost seconds after, leaving a dumbfounded, confused and angry Clarke, an exhausted, quiet and protective Bellamy and a skinny, sleeping kid, head currently resting on Bellamy's shoulder. 

Seconds passed, feeling like dragging hours in the uncomfortable silence then suddenly Clarke frowned and made her way forward. "Firstly, where the hell have you been?" she whisper shouted, clearly irritated that she wasn't one of the ones Bellamy had informed about his day of disappearance. "And secondly, where the hell did you get a kid from?" 

The exact same question had come from Jasper's lips just minutes earlier but this time Bellamy knew that the answer he gave Jasper would have to be more elaborate when given to Clarke.

"I found her," Bellamy sighed, holding the child tighter as she buried her face deeper in the crook of his neck. "She was in a cave not too far from here, starving, freezing and-" Bellamy began to feel the anger bubble up inside of him as he choked out the next few words, "someone's beat her up. Clarke, I couldn't just leave her." 

A few drunken yells drifted over the top of the boundary wall before the young girl in his arms began to squirm, suddenly becoming aware of the unfamiliar environment she was beginning to wake up in. A small whine slipped from her lips as she clung to Bellamy's neck tighter and craned her own neck to look at the blonde that stood opposite her. 

It was then that Bellamy noticed the striking similarities between the two girls. Hair the exact golden colour and eyes the same shining blue, only Clarke's complexion was far more fairer than the girl in his arms. While other delinquents skin had began to darken after all these  
months on the ground Clarke's still remained the same familiar Ivory. The young girls however was more of a natural light tan in colour, accenting her bright features extremely well. 

While Bellamy still examined the two Clarke seemed oblivious to the obvious similarity and instead eyed the girl carefully, furrowing her brow at her abused state and softening her gaze when the little girl locked eyes with her. Her face had been hidden before so Clarke wasn't able to see the full extent of her injuries, it was only now that Clarke understood why Bellamy brought her. 

"I couldn't leave her," Bellamy echoed again, this time looking at the girl. 

Clarke sighed softly before meeting the gaze of Bellamy as his own gaze fell. Eyes locking she gave a nod of understanding. "I know," she whispered, voice the softest Bellamy had ever heard. "Bring her to my tent. I'll meet you there soon." 

\-------

Walking through camp with a small child on your shoulder was sure to attract a few stares, but Bellamy was completely unprepared for the complete silence that followed him. Eyes all around him were planted on him and the child, her curious eyes peeping out over the top of Bellamy's shoulder as she overlooked the quiet camp. People in the midst of conversation seemingly stopped mid sentence while others stopped their drinking games just to watch. The walk from the gate to Clarke's tent took roughly 30 seconds but when receiving that much attention it can feel minutes longer, each step equaling a mile and each second of silence equaling a lifetime. Finally it was over and with a small sigh of relief Bellamy placed his hand gently on the crown of the little girls head before ducking inside, eyes no longer digging into his back. 

It was only seconds later that Bellamy began to hear the hushed voices, giggles and inquiries of the delinquents that stood just outside. Most he couldn't decipher but there was one that was taking place just beyond the thin material of the tent, and it was this one that really caught his attention. 

"See, I told you," a young girl, giddy with happiness exclaimed. "Clarke and Bellamy were always going to be the first to start a family!" 

"Gracie," another laughed. "They're not even going out." 

It honestly made him chuckle knowing that a group of teenage girls had been discussing his relationship status let alone his future. But it was the mention of Clarke being part of it that had caught him by surprise. He'd never really thought of her that way. She'd always just been Clarke, nothing more than his co-leader and friend. And yeah, he knew they had a closer relationship than most, depending on one another and ultimately trusting each other. But never had he ever thought about their relationship possibly being something much more than platonic. 

It was just hours later that Clarke looked up at him with a signature tired smile on her lips, eyes shining bright in the lantern light, fingers gently pulling twigs from dirty blonde curls and a soft hum buzzing through the air that Bellamy thought about his future and yeah, maybe, just maybe, Clarke was going to be in it.


	2. Chapter 2

It took a couple of seconds for Bellamy to fully register where he was. He was in a bed that wasn't his, he was in a tent that wasn't his, and the arm that was draped across his torso wasn't his either. With the palms of his hands he rubbed his eyes and began to sit up, only to be met with a whine and small bony fingers digging into the skin of his chest. Slowly but surely the recounts of last night began to make an appearance in his groggy mind. As he rolled onto his side he was met with an abundance of blonde frizzy curls. They belonged to the nameless girl in the cave. 

Carefully Bellamy pried her fingers away, and sat up once again in search for another set of golden curls. And sure enough he found them sprawled across the ground in a perfect mess, their owner asleep by his side. Her head rested upon not a pillow but the cold Earth and her body was covered in a orange blanket, draping haphazardly around her shoulders. She looked peaceful, younger and less stressed as she slept, her pink lips parted and her eyelids flickering as she dreamt. Oh how Bellamy would've loved to know what she was dreaming about, even catching a glimpse of her imagination and unconscious thoughts running wild would satisfy his young adolescent mind. Seconds elapsed and the amount of time he had been staring at Clarke was beginning to become borderline creepy, and so, slowly, he looked away. Instead drawing his attention to a now cold cup of peppermint tea and a bowl of wild rice resting on the edge of Clarke’s messy desk. 

That was one of the last things he remembered before falling asleep - Clarke leaving to scrounge up a meal for him after his stupid stomach wouldn't shut up. He must’ve fallen asleep before she came back, leaving him looking like a selfish asshole stealing her bed while she had to sleep on the floor. He sighed rather loudly and ran his fingers through his inky black curls before swinging his legs around to sit on the edge of the cot. The movement suddenly coaxed Clarke out of an uncomfortable sleep and soon she was opening her tired eyes and quietly yawning into the back of her hand. 

“Hey,” she smiled up at him, eyes still milky with the remnants of her unspoken dream. 

“Hi,” he replied back easily. “Care to explain why you were sleeping on the floor?”

She began to sit up, hugging her knees and resting her chin on the tops. Sneaking a look upwards she sighed. “I didn't want to wake you,” she answered simply. “I couldn't just kick you out of my bed, not after the day you had.” 

Bellamy allowed a lazy smirk to spread across his lips before he began to stand, the cot behind him creaking slightly as he did so. “You shouldn't have,” he whispered back. “But… thank you.”

“It’s fine,” she smirked before continuing. “I think we should go see Lincoln,” she held out her hands and with the with help of Bellamy she rose. If their hands stayed clasped together a little longer than necessary neither of them said so. Instead Clarke gave him a smile and began to speak quietly over her shoulder. “He could maybe ask around in the nearby villages. Maybe she’s just missing.”

Bellamy paused, watching as Clarke swept her blonde hair over her shoulder as she knelt down to put her boots on. 

“Then how did she get bruises, the grazing?” Bellamy asked quietly. “Someone hasn't misplaced their child. They knew exactly what they were doing when they left her in that cave to die.” 

His reply changed the entire weight of the conversation. It was brutal but it was true, and Bellamy knew it.

Clarke quickly laced her boots before standing and facing him, hands on her hips and head cocked ever so slightly. She was watching him, sensing the touchiness he conveyed when they spoke about this particular subject. Somehow he made it seem as if he’d been through the exact same experience before, that it was something that affected him directly. 

“Well maybe she was found by the wrong type of person. Maybe she was abducted. I don't know Bellamy. Someone has to know who she is.” Clarke replied cautiously. “We can’t just assume-“

But her sentence was never finished. 

“Clarke you're being naive. There’s no point in looking for someone who doesn't even want her. She was abandoned. Just drop it, ok?” 

He never raised his voice, he never angered, instead he kept his tone even throughout, but in his eyes there was something unexplainable. It was a mixture of sorrow, pain, and possible desperation. It was something Clarke had never seen before and most likely never wished to see ever again. It broke her. 

“Bellamy…” Clarke began, breathing softly as she stepped towards him. “What’s going on with you?”

It wasn't like him. He never allowed his feelings to show. It was a sign of weakness and being the type of leader he was, any sign of weakness was seen as a potential threat to the safety of the other delinquents. 

So he didn't answer. Instead his eyes drifted over to where the little blonde haired girl slept, her small chest evenly rising and falling as she snuggled closer into the duvet. She was at peace here, she was welcome here and she would be cared for here. Bellamy couldn’t risk handing her over to someone who claimed to know her, not after the life she had already been made to live through.

“Please, just let her stay,” he whispered, eyes finally locking with Clarke’s. 

And with that Clarke sighed, nodding gently but never breaking his gaze. She was trying, trying so hard to understand what was going through his wild mind, trying to decipher the code that was written in his expression. But she couldn’t. He was someone she couldn't quite perceive, even with the majority of his cards on the table.

His eyes were deep, begging and pleading and she never had the heart to say no when someone looked at her like that, let alone Bellamy who had never allowed any of these emotions to be seen. 

“Of course she can stay Bellamy,” Clarke answered slowly. “But I still think we should investigate. Find out…more.”

It took a few moments silence before he replied. 

“Later,” Bellamy finally agreed upon. “For now though, promise me you won’t keep pushing for answers.”

Bellamy extended his hand and quickly rose his little finger, eyebrows raised when Clarke didn't immediately meet her finger with his own.

“You’re making me pinky promise?” She asked with a frown. “Bellamy, I'm eighteen years old not five.” 

“I’ll have you know that I take my pinky promises very seriously,” he replied back, his expression like stone as he raised his hand even higher to wiggle in Clarke’s face. 

With a roll of her eyes and a scoff she hooked her pinky with his and whispered, “I promise,” before dropping her hand to walk through the flap of the tent and into the early morning quietness of the camp.

He didn't see her for the rest of the morning.

 

———-

It was early afternoon when the youngster woke, her cries throwing Bellamy completely off guard. They started off as only a whimper, her small face digging itself deeper and deeper into the duvet in an attempt to hide from whatever was troubling her but then something changed. The whimpers turned to screams. Screams that were shattering large wails coming from the deepest part of her lungs. 

Bellamy, who was sitting only metres away at the time, practically lunged to her side, shaking her gently until her bright blue, terror filled eyes snapped open. Quickly she pushed back, but the sheets tangled her legs and she collapsed with a heavy thud against the headboard, her head knocking the wood. The little girl’s frizzy, messy hair fell in front of her face as her eyes darted from one corner of the tent to the other, her little mind working overtime to re-familiarise herself with what had happened last night before she spotted Bellamy. Her breathing began to slow but the tears only just began to fall. She was absolutely terrified, shaking as she tried to make herself invisible as she most likely had tried to do many times before.

“It’s alright,” he whispered gently, holding out his hands in surrender like he had done the night before. “You had a bad dream.” 

She slowly blinked unaware of the difference between dream and reality. But maybe that was because her whole life was a nightmare, days and nights merging together becoming a singular continuum of the unluckiest of fate. But his words seemed to calm her down a little, returning her breathing almost back to its normal rate.

In her small mouth she tried a word she’d never spoken but heard countless times before. “Bad,” she whispered, lifting her hand to touch the sore spot on her head and using her other to point at her chest. “Bad?”

Bellamy gave a heartbroken sigh before shaking his head. “No sweetheart, you're not bad.” 

She stared at him, both hands dropping to her lap. It was one of the only words she ever understood, the word often followed by a blow. So Bellamy telling her otherwise only confused her. 

He stood before walking over to the desk and picking up his canteen. She watched him as he came closer and crouched down where he had crouched before. Slowly he unscrewed the lid and held out the container. But she only stared at it, never making an effort to reach for it or even come closer. 

“It’s water,” he clarified but that didn't change a thing. “You need to drink,” his voice a little more breathy than usual. “Please.” 

His words were gentle, gentle enough to coax her from the corner and closer towards him. With shaky hands she reached for the canteen only to spill half of it when she brought it towards her cracked lips. She winced, waiting for retaliation but it never came. Instead Bellamy took it back from her, beckoned her towards him and lifted the canteen to her lips so she could take a small sip. “Better?” he asked quietly, taking the canteen away and gently wiping away the remainder of the water that dripped down her chin. 

With soft eyes she bit her lip and gently nodded. 

At least he now knew that she understood what he was saying.

A smile spread across Bellamy’s lips as he winked. “Attagirl.” 

They both grew silent for a while before the youngster’s blue eyed gaze met his as she once again brought her fingers to her chest. “Atta?” she asked quietly, eyes wide in curiosity. 

Bellamy went to correct her, tell her that it was just a term of encouragement but then he quickly stopped himself. She didn't have a name and she couldn't remain nameless her entire life. A name gave someone an identity and perhaps for this little girl it could be the start of her new beginning. But Atta was a rather unusual name, and it somehow didn't seem right. 

“Personally,” he whispered, eyes shining as she inched closer towards him. “I prefer Cleo.” 

Cleopatra. He'd always been a sucker for history.

“Cleo,” she tried softly before nodding and tucking her legs underneath her to sit upon her knees. She leant forward and brought her fingers to Bellamy’s chest before whispering, “Bellamy” then gently leant back and did the same to her chest, only this time whispering “Cleo.”

Finally they were getting a breakthrough in communication and it brought a wide smile to his lips as he nodded once again. “Yeah,” he whispered, gently brushing a stray piece of her golden hair away from her eyes before tucking it behind her ear. She looked straight in his eyes, her own eyes full of trust and respect for the man that had saved her. Whatever life she was made to live was gone now, no longer would bruises line her eyes or grazing scratch her cheeks. 

“Who knew you were a big softy this entire time,” Clarke mused from the entrance of the tent, a smile on her lips. The afternoon sun created a god-like silhouette of her figure, somehow lightening her blonde hair to look like iridescent glowing strands of silk. But the minute Clarke’s voice was heard Cleo shot back and scurried to hide herself behind Bellamy’s large figure. She began to whimper, and it was only when Clarke came further in to view and she recognised her face did she slowly reappear over the tops of Bellamy’s shoulders. 

“It’s only Clarke,” Bellamy reassured her softly as he took her by the hand and led her to sit on his lap. “She’s not going to hurt you.” 

Cleo watched hesitantly as Clarke placed two small bowls on the metal desk before sitting down on the chair opposite them, swinging a large laundry bag in between her legs. Both Bellamy and Cleo stared at the bag before looking up at Clarke with quizzical looks on their faces. 

Clarke, sensing their confusion, finally spoke. “I got Finn to go to the bunker he found a while ago,” she announced, opening the bag and pulling out a small grey knitted dress, the type with sleeves that ended at the elbow and a braided hemline, next came a pair of brown lace up boots and a pair of cotton maroon tights. Slowly, garment after garment were revealed and with each the little girls face grew a little brighter.

“They’re all for her?” Bellamy breathed with a soft smile, holding Cleo’s body a little closer to his own. 

“Well yeah,” Clarke replied easily. “You can’t expect her to wear your shirt her entire life,” she added, nodding towards a dark navy shirt that Cleo’s thin body was currently swimming in. “I think she deserves a few items of clothing.”

“Yeah,” he smiled gently, pressing his lips to the crown of Cleo’s head. 

Personally, Bellamy believed she deserved the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone :))
> 
> I know it’s been a while and I’m soooooo sorry to keep you all waiting. One of my childhood friends unfortunately fell extremely ill and I honestly didn’t have the motivation to finish this chapter for a while. Thankfully everything is alright now and he should be home in a few days which I am extremely grateful for.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please don’t forget to comment and kudos if you did. 
> 
> Xx
> 
> Sarah


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you miss most from the Ark?" Bellamy asked Clarke suddenly but quietly as he stared up at the night sky, knowing somewhere their old tin can was currently orbiting miles above them. 

Beside him he could hear Clarke sigh, and as he turned his gaze to her she looked up, avoiding his eyes and the question they asked. "I don't miss anything," she all but whispered, eyes glued to the blackness. "There's nothing up there for me anyway, not anymore." She paused for a moment, deep in a reminiscent trance, before dropping her eyes to the sleepy camp and the delinquents it sheltered. "I'm better off here." 

On some level Bellamy could agree. Earth meant freedom, unexplored lands and unexplored feelings were left to overgrow in between the trees and the soil. Sure, the first few months when the Grounders were prone to attack at any given moment we're a little hectic, a little chaotic but now everything was simple, peaceful even. It was nice. 

Being surrounded by metal walls and strict laws in comparison wasn't exactly paradise. Everything was rationed and everything was failing. Hell, the only reason they were sent down here was to give the Ark a little more oxygen. The council argued, saying they weren't sending their troubled youths down there to die, that they were sending them down for an important exploration of the empty land. But everyone knew it was a lie. The chances of the delinquents of even surviving the drop in that metal coffin they sent them down in was less than five percent.

But down here, even with the peace there was hardships. They had limited medical supplies, less than comfortable bedding and mediocre hygiene. 

"I miss showers," Bellamy thought out loud which earned him a breathless from Clarke. 

There was a pause, then finally she turned her head to look at him. "Alright," she whispered back. "Yeah, I guess I miss showers too." 

The pressure was terrible, the water stayed warm for only thirty seconds and the rationed soap they were given barely had any purpose considering what little it did to clean them. But it was a shower none the less. 

"And that vanilla pudding they gave us every Sunday lunch. That was good," Bellamy added gently.

He'd only ever had it a couple of times. Whenever he received his serving he'd always stash it under his shirt and run home to give it too Octavia. He thought that vanilla pudding would make up for the fact she wasn't allowed out - it didn't, but at least it allowed a rare smile to spread across her lips. 

The Octavia he knew back then was nothing like the one he knew now. Her smiles came easily and she'd laughed more in these last few months then Bellamy had ever heard laugh in all of her years. He could hear it now, echoing across camp as she lazily braided Harper's dirty blonde hair just metres away. She had friends here, an abundance actually. It often surprised him how quickly she managed to do such a thing. The only human contact she had for sixteen years was Aurora and himself. 

"The Vanilla pudding sucked Bellamy. The fruit cake was much better," Clarke smiled, nudging him gently with her shoulder. "You have terrible tastes in desserts." 

Bellamy allowed a lazy smirk form on his lips before gently nudging her back. It was nothing really, just some playful banter between friends, not even a hint of flirting involved. And yet, when Bellamy glanced across camp he caught the eye of his sister and he could've swore he saw her wink. 

Fricken wink.

This was dangerous territory. 

He shot her a warning glare before a shattering scream brought Bellamy to his feet and into Clarke's tent within seconds. It was like routine now. Cleo and screaming practically went hand in hand, as did Cleo and nightmares. 

Arms and legs flailing and sobs bursting through her lips Cleo thrashed against the bed covers. Quickly Bellamy approached, carefully crouching down by the cot and grabbing her closest arm.

"Cleo," he spoke, gently shaking her until her eyes snapped open for the second time that day. Taking a shuddering breath she sat up, eyes wide and lip quivering as she hugged her torso. 

Bellamy might never know what happened to this little girl before he found her, and honestly the thought of knowing would make him even more sick to the stomach. But all he knew is that whoever did this, who ever caused a child this much pain would rot in hell. No child deserved to be treated the way Cleo had been, no matter the circumstance. 

"Bad," she whispered, slowly rocking back and forth, her breathing becoming even more unsteady as she did. Her eyes focused on nothing in particular- showing no sign of emotion not even fear. She was vacant, acting like even the smallest sign of feeling would end in a beating. 

With a sigh Bellamy brought himself to sit on the edge of the cot. "Look at me Cleo," he eased, watching as her eyes flickered but never quite met his. 

"I know you're scared, but you're safe now. No ones going to hurt you anymore. I won't ever let that happen again," he assured her, eyes roaming her face in a silent plea for her to understand. "You hear me? You're safe." 

Finally she turned her head, tears visibly streaming down her cheeks. They left their tracks visible on her skin, all collecting at the tip of her chin before sinking into the material of her woollen dress. Her blonde hair fell in front of her clouded eyes, hiding what she was trying to convey. And her frail hands remained tightly in fists. "Safe?" she asked quietly, voice croaking but undeniably soft. 

Cleo had never known safeness. Cleo had never known good. All she knew was wrong, and Bellamy was determined to make things right. 

"You're home."

Home. That sounded good. That sounded right. 

Cleo opened her hands and examine the blood that had seeped through the quarter inch cuts in her palms. She'd clasped her fists too tightly, her nails digging themselves unconsciously into her flesh. 

"We'll fix it," Bellamy eased cupping her elbows and guiding her into his arms. Slowly he picked her up, her arms instantly wrapping firmly around his neck. 

"Fix," Cleo whispered into his shoulder as he walked towards the opening of the flap. 

They were talking about the cuts on her hands but deep down they both knew it was much more than that. Bellamy was going to try fix everything. 

"Nightmare?" Clarke asked quietly as Bellamy once again sat down beside her, only his time they felt less alone as the eyes of curious delinquents gawked their way, eyes glued on the unlikely trio. 

It was a question that certainly didn't need answering, nor further explanation if it happened to be. So he simply nodded, eyes a little vague but firm in belief that he was going to do everything in his power to stop them. 

"It's normal Bellamy," Clarke sighed. Sensing his concern she reached out, gently placing her hand on his forearm before continuing. "Children her age- they get nightmares." 

Quickly his eyes darted to where their skin met skin before looking up at her. He gave her a small smile in reply but it never quite met his eyes. 

*** 

"All done," Clarke smiled, tucking the end of the bandage firmly under the rest. Gently, she brought her fingers to Cleo's hair and tucked a stray piece behind her ear. "You were so brave." 

Her small blue eyes drifted to her hands, wiggling her fingers from where they poked through the bandages. It's funny how even the smallest of things children can find interesting, mesmerising even. 

"Shall we go see Bellamy?" Clarke asked softly and Cleo responded eagerly with a quick nod.

"You like him huh?" Clarke smiled, picking Cleo up before she felt her skinny arms wrap around her neck. "He pretends to be tough, you know. But he's not really." 

She'd learnt that about him. The hard wall he conveyed daily was only a cover for the real Bellamy that was inside. 

Clarke started to walk towards the opening of the dropship, the crappy metal shuttle the delinquents slept in for the first few days on Earth, when the crack of thunder shocked both Clarke and Cleo simultaneously. 

Neither of them had heard anything like it, and neither of them knew exactly what it was. They didn't have thunder in space. They had nothing in space. Clarke had experienced rain down here, it had come only days after landing and she'd also experienced a storm. But it had come on gradually, not as quickly and as forceful as it had just done. 

Cleo began to cry. Actually no, she began to scream. And if Clarke was just a few years younger she would've done the exact same. 

"Shhhh," Clarke sighed bouncing her gently as Bellamy ran through the opening. His hair glistening with the smallest of rain drops that Clarke didn't even know had fallen. 

"What the hell was that?" Clarke asked, her voice a little breathless, quivering slightly as Bellamy took Cleo from her. 

"Thunder," he replied quickly, eyes roaming her anxious expression, her fingers shaking a little as she ran fingers through her messy curls. "You alright?" He asked gently, his brow furrowed as he rubbed soothing circles on Cleo's back. 

Clarke swallowed, nodding slowly as she managed a weak "yeah," but her hands were still shaking. Uncontrollable actions she wished would just stop. 

Bellamy raised a quizzical brow before opening his free arm and pulling her into his chest. It was sudden, quick, but her breathing slowed as her cheek hit him firmly in the chest.

"Bellamy, you don't need-" she started but was cut off as Bellamy pulled her tighter towards him. 

"Just shut up," he whispered softly into her hair. 

And she did. 

It was then that Clarke suddenly understood why Cleo felt so safe in his embrace. 

***

Outside the wind was howling, the rain was pelting down and the thunder cracked a little further away then before but it still rattled the ground none the less. 

In Clarke's small bed their was currently three inhabitants. Clarke on the left, Bellamy on the right and a thankfully fast asleep Cleo sandwiched between the two. 

Amazingly nothing about their current situation was uncomfortable. It was like this was something they had done every single night of their lives. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

"Do you think it's irrational?" Clarke asked quietly into the darkness as both her and Bellamy stared at the rippling roof of the tent conveniently caused by the wind. "My fear of storms. I mean, there's so many other things to be scared of in the world and I'm terrified of the weather." 

Bellamy stayed silent for a while before sighing. "Everyone's scared of something Clarke," he whispered back. "It's only when you let it control you that it becomes a problem." 

Neither of the said anything. They didn't have to. The bed covers momentarily moved before Clarke felt Bellamy's hand lightly cover her own. 

He was testing the waters, Clarke knew that, so she steered him in the right direction and turned her hand over to intertwine their fingers. 

It felt good. 

Nice. 

Oddly natural. 

"What are you scared of?" Clarke asked gently, turning her head slightly, just being able to make his figure out in the darkness. 

He squeezed her hand but just softly laughed in reply. So Clarke dropped the subject entirely. 

"Fine, don't tell me," Clarke whispered in reply, her voice breathy and playful as she manoeuvred herself to lay on her side to face him even more. 

Throughout their entire conversation Clarke could feel her eyelids drooping but it was only when she allowed herself to feel the weight of exhaustion take over her did she begin to yawn. 

"Go to sleep Clarke," Bellamy eased, feeling as she squeezed his hand tighter as another wave of thunder boomed somewhere in the distance. "It's not going to hurt you." 

She allowed a tired hum to escape her lips before she nuzzled into the pathetic excuse of a pillow. She couldn't complain really. It was better than the floor where she had slept the night before. 

"Goodnight Bellamy," she whispered softly. 

"Goodnight Clarke," he replied even softer. 

It was roughly thirty minutes after, when Clarke's breathing had slowed to a steady, unconscious rhythm that Bellamy spoke one of his deepest fears that no one, not even Octavia knew. 

"I don't wanna be alone." 

There was silence that followed. 

The rain had stopped, the winds had died down and the thunder silenced. Everything was still, everything was peaceful. 

She was meant to be asleep, she wasn't suppose to hear. 

But she did. 

"You're not alone Bellamy," was her reply and suddenly everything changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait but here it is! Hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> As always please don't forget to comment and Kudos. 
> 
> Your support gives me life! 
> 
> Xx 
> 
> Sarah


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke always woke before the sun. 

Everyday for the last six months it had been a routine, her brain wired like clockwork which never faltered no matter how exhausted she may be. 

But this morning was different. 

Clarke awoke to the sound of soft pitter-pattered rain mixed with the sounds of far away conversation between the inhabitants of camp. Greyish light seeped through the cracks of the worn out material of her tent while her blurry vision fought to become clear. It was odd really. 

She always woke in darkness, always woke before sun decided to wake. 

That was the first realisation of the day; she had overslept. 

The second came just moments later. 

Her fingers on her left hand were were numb. Like a tingling and pinching sort of the numb, the type where you had to continuously wiggle your fingers for seconds on end before you could finally regain feeling. So she tried, she tried wiggling her fingers but there was a significant weight holding them at bay. 

Slowly she brought herself to look down and upon inspection she discovered that not only had she fallen asleep with Bellamy's fingers between her own but she had also woken with them exactly the same. The grip was a little looser, but she didn't mind. 

It was tan juxtaposed with ivory, big intertwined with small. 

It was him and her against the world, together even when they slept. 

Clarke then drifted to her eyes to look upon Bellamy's content features. His was brow slightly creased, eyes shielding out the light as his chest rose and fell heavily with each breath. He looked peaceful, the most peaceful Clarke had ever seen him. His signature black curls flopped messily over the top of his forehead before he pushed them aside with one hand, squeezed her hand tighter with the other and sunk into his pillow a little further. 

When he slept he didn't have a scowl, a frown or a steady parade of foul language leaving his lips. He was just Bellamy - a twenty three year old asleep in a lumpy bed, his fingers laced with a co-leader's.

Clarke actually enjoyed his company opposed to when she couldn't stand to be near him. The first few days on Earth he was a walking, talking ad for testosterone with sex drive through the roof. But she could tell it was an act, a coverup from the real him that lurked just beyond the surface of his tan skin. It took him a measly two weeks before he showed her the real him. The one riddled with guilt over what he had done to get here, over what his sister's lockup and his mothers execution. 

He was an interesting person, and there was always the possibility of learning more about him. She could stay, she wanted to stay, but she was awake and couldn't just lie there doing nothing. Daylight was burning and there were things to be done and stupid delinquent injuries to fix. 

Not a precious day on Earth could be wasted. 

Slowly but carefully Clarke pried her fingers away from Bellamy's and instantly missed the warmth that had radiated through her fingers. But it had to be done and he didn't seem all that affected, instead he just let his hand lay limply against the mattress as he continued his blissful slumber. 

He deserved this, he deserved uninterrupted sleep. He'd been working so hard for weeks now, preparing camp for the looming harsh winters that they had heard were unforgiving. Every day without fail he would find his way to his little corner of camp and continuously chop wood, whether it be for the surplus of firewood or the small cabins everyone had been helping build. 

It was gruelling work and Clarke was sure his shirt was soaked in sweat at least 90% of the time and yet he never once complained. He knew someone needed to do it. But Clarke could see in the way he unknowingly rolled his tender shoulders that he was trying to relieve some of the pain the relentless work was causing him. 

He worked hard. 

Too hard for Clarke's liking. 

And he needed a break. 

So she let him sleep, she let him dream and slowly bought her gaze to the youngster that was sure to change the way things were run around here.

Somehow during the night she had spread out at the end of the bed, golden hair sprawled out amongst the covers. The only feature that emerged from the unruly curtains of curls was her parted lips which took a long deep breath every few seconds or so. 

Clarke gave a gentle sigh and lightly brushed the hair away to reveal the fading affects of Cleo's unknown past. The bruises were turning to yellow, the grazing was staring to heal and Bellamy had informed her that she had been speaking a little more. But there was something in the way her grey eyes vacantly stared, the way her nightmares were frequently waking her up and the way she clung to Bellamy's neck that there was some problems that couldn't be so easily fixed. 

They would try though. That was a common trait in every delinquent of their camp. They might've been criminals but they all tried goddamn hard to live, to survive, to become more than expendable. 

 

***

It was just after Midday when the rain stopped, the heavy grey sky still looming overhead, threatening to spill any given moment. To some it may have been a gloomy sight. Soaked Earth had caked itself on everyone's boots and the sun had been greedily hidden away, but to Clarke is was beautiful. 

It wasn't raining, it wasn't storming, it was just peaceful. Mesmerisingly so. 

She was standing by the boundary wall, simply taking in the beautiful damp forest, transfixed on the trees that surrounded their camp when Octavia appeared completely out of nowhere. 

"So you and my brother huh?" 

Clarke gave a startled jump before sighing. "Jesus Octavia," she spoke, bringing her hand to her booming heart. "Where's the warning?" 

"Sorry," she muttered back, completely unapologetically, leaning against a nearby tree, folding her arms across her chest as she cocked her head to the side. "But spill." 

Clarke gave a sigh, kicking her feet in the damp earth before replying. "Spill what exactly?" 

She'd expected this. She knew it was coming. Gossip spread like wild fire throughout camp, all they needed was the match. 

"Oh come on Clarke," Octavia huffed. "We haven't seen either of you in days, and when we have you're completely preoccupied with each other to even notice us. You're in your own little world when you're with him." 

Clarke gave a breathless laugh before crossing her arms to mimic the brunette. "Are you oblivious to the fact that there is currently a child in our camp?"

"Further enhancing my point." Octavia smirked a signature Blake smirk before grinning. "You're literal parents. That's next level shit right there." 

"We're not parents Octavia." Clarke gave an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes quickly. "Just stop." 

But Octavia wouldn't stop. She was a persistent little thing. 

"Tell me Clarke. Has he named her?" 

"What?" she asked quietly, tone dropping ever so slightly. 

"The kid," Octavia clarified. "Has Bellamy named the kid?" 

Cleo. Bellamy had just declared that was her name less than a day ago. She didn't ask questions, just accepted it for what it was. It was her name. It never occurred to her that it was him that had named her. But come to think of it, she knew he was a complete history freak, and yeah, it all made sense now. 

"Y-yeah," Clarke stammered slightly, fixing her gaze on the Blake in front of her. "Why does that matter?" 

With a laugh Octavia raised her eyebrows ever so slightly. "He's never gonna let that kid out of his sight, you do get that right? You're forgetting he named me." 

Clarke knew how protective Bellamy was over his sister, in fact, everyone in the whole camp knew how protective Bellamy was of his sister. If anyone even looked at Octavia the wrong way you could be sure Bellamy would be on their case in a matter of minutes. Hell, Bellamy once strung up Atom for having a crush on her. 

With a glint in her eye Octavia walked towards the blonde, stopping just inches from her in an attempt to look threatening. 

"Just be good to him ok? He's been through a lot."

"O-," Clarke started before being quickly cut off with the raise of a hand. 

"Look, you can deny it all you want but everyone sees it." 

Someone cleared their throat just behind them before both girls spun around to see Bellamy, Cleo's hand in his as she absentmindedly stomped through a puddle of mud. 

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, trying to keep his face neutral but failing as his eyes darted from Octavia's to Clarke's before back to his sister's. He was suspicious and worried all rolled into one.

With a smirk Octavia shook her head, her braids flying as she walked back into camp, but not before winking at her brother as she walked past. 

He looked mortified. 

Bellamy took a step forward, shoulders brushing with Clarke's as he stood next to her, watching as his sister disappeared amongst delinquents. 

"Should I be worried?" Bellamy whispered quietly into Clarke's ear. 

Thousands of goosebumps prickled her skin, shivers shot down the length of her spine and caused her eyes to quickly shut in an attempt to gather herself. 

When they finally opened her gaze immediately met his as a smile spread across her lips. "It's Octavia," she whispered back casually, or as casual she could. "You should always be worried." 

He chuckled, brown eyes warm, lively and crinkled. She loved it when he laughed. 

"I know Clarke," he grinned. "She's been worrying me for seventeen years." 

Later that night when the clouds had cleared and the stars were twinkling, a rare banquet of wild turkey, fish, beans, rice and pumpkin was taking place. Apparently their hunting party were extremely triumphant in their findings, proudly beaming as they entered camp just minutes ago. 

Clarke sat on a log by the fire, taking in the mouth watering smell of dinner whilst staring at the flames as an abundance of delinquents chattered around her. She wasn't paying attention though, the cracking charred wood and lively flames completely capturing her attention. That was until she felt a bump at her shoulder. It was Harper, small smile on her lips as she asked, "How's the kid?" 

Clarke had always liked Harper. She was smart, a good shot, and was one of the most compassionate people in camp. She didn't know her all that well, but she classified her as a friend none the less. 

"She's fine," Clarke nodded, staring at her hands before looking up at her. "She's extremely shy and I've never heard her speak." According to Bellamy she does, Clarke just hadn't heard her yet. 

With a small frown she continued. "You can tell she's been through a lot, but she's a good kid." 

"And Bellamy?" Harper asked, something in her eye which led Clarke to believe the gossip had already started. 

"He's really good with her," Clarke added, a hint of a smirk spreading across her lips - fuel to feed the fire. 

With a glance over her shoulder she saw Bellamy. He was talking with Miller, nodding slowly, frown evident on his face as listened thoroughly. Whatever they were talking about it was serious and the smirk quickly faded from her lips. 

"Excuse me," she announced, standing quickly before making her way over to them. "What's going on?" 

"It's nothing," Bellamy sighed immediately, dismissing Miller with a wave of his hand before picking up Cleo when she tugged at his shirt. "Let's get dinner." 

He started to walk away in a hurry before Clarke quickly grabbed his arm, swinging him back around to face her and ultimately stopping his attempt at an escape. 

"Tell me," she demanded softly, eyes searching his as he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. 

It was on the tip of his tongue, Clarke could see it in his eyes. 

He sighed a deep sigh, dropping his eyes to the floor as he absentmindedly held Cleo tighter. 

He was trying to escape Clarke once more. 

With a quick glance Clarke noticed the way Cleo snuggled into him, head dropping to his shoulder as she stared sleepily back at Clarke. It was as if that was where she belonged, as if she had known Bellamy her entire short life, that he was her entire world. 

She looked back to Bellamy.

He looked lost, defeated and anxious all throughout mixed together in a cocktail of despair.

"Someone's looking for her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed even after such a long wait. Comments and suggestions are always encouraged along with KUDOS. Thank you all for reading. 
> 
> Xx Sarah


	5. Chapter 5

Bellamy stared deep into the depths of the fire and watched the flames hungrily lick the crackling wood. His eyes burned, his throat burned, his stomach burned, every part of him burned - as if all he knew was fire. On his lap sat a tin plate covered in vast amounts of mouthwatering food. Grilled pumpkin, roasted turkey, steamed wild rice all sat among the dull silver. He should’ve been grateful. They had few meals like this on Earth, in fact, for weeks they had come close to starving. And yet, here Bellamy was, food in front of him and he couldn't bring himself to eat. He lifted his fork and prodded carelessly at the arrangement. Honestly, he made it look less and less appealing with every poke. A hand reached out and steadied his wrist, forcing him to look up at the owner. 

“If you’re not going to eat it give it to someone who will,” Clarke sighed, nodding gently to a pair of hopeful eyes that looked longingly at the plate. Her cracked lips became instantly moistened by the tip of her tongue as she snuck a glance up at him.

“You still hungry Cleo?” Bellamy asked the girl quietly, his question being met with a quick nod as she scrambled to her feet. She eagerly reached for the metal, sitting back down quickly once she succeeded and digging into her second helping. 

With a small, distant smile Bellamy gently ruffled Cleo’s hair before resting his head on the palm of his hands, finally bringing himself to think about what was happening. Three days ago he found a girl in a cave, becoming extremely possessive and protective over her the minute she clung to his neck. And now, someone was looking for her. 

“Bellamy,” he heard Clarke whisper, feeling her hand lightly brush his back. His tender muscles flinched under her touch, something that didn't go unnoticed by Clarke. “Why don't you get some sleep?” Her tone undeniably soft and gentle as her fingers slipped from his shirt. 

He wanted to. God knows he needed it, but as a sigh escaped his lips Clarke could see the hesitation in his gaze. “We need to figure out we’re going to do,” he spoke softly, pushing his fingers through his messy curls. Then, even softer, “What the hell are we going to do?”

A woman had approached Miller and his team just an hour into their hunt, frantically flailing her arms as she fell to her knees asking if they had seen a child. Her child. Whether or not the woman was telling the truth didn't matter, it meant that Cleo wasn't in fact abandoned as Bellamy once thought. Someone knew her, possibly someone who had caused her the pain she was reunited with in her dreams. Miller, being ultimately apprehensive of the woman’s intentions had lied. He claimed he hadn't seen any child around. Thankfully, the woman had only nodded before quickly scurrying off deeper into the woods. Miller had bought them more time, for what exactly was unclear. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Clarke announced, frowning slightly as she gazed thoughtfully down at Cleo. She had finished her meal and was currently trying to unknot a tangle in her golden hair, ultimately giving up when she noticed the commotion over the other side of the fire pit. Jasper and Monty were taking it in turns throwing plump berries into each other’s mouths, trying weird and wacky ways to complete the task. Jasper, feeling rather adventurous, decided to throw a berry extremely high into the night sky, panicking immediately as he lost sight of it. A crowd of delinquents all shot their heads to the sky, trying to spot the cascading fruit as it fell but with no avail. 

Monty began to curse Jasper and his stupidity when it suddenly reappeared, bouncing off of Jasper’s eye before falling to the ground. Jasper managed a small growl before cupping his right side of his face and sitting down with a huff before everyone around him burst into laughter. Through the various chuckles of the group a singular giggle could be heard. A giggle belonging to the quiet little girl that sat at Bellamy and Clarke’s feet. 

With a grin and a quick glance at Clarke, Bellamy scooped Cleo up onto his lap, wincing slightly at the pain. “Hey Kiddo, I didn't know you could laugh.” 

Cleo small smile still evident on her lips, wearily nodded, her hair falling in front of her eyes as she did so. “Funny,” she spoke quietly, absentmindedly playing with the bandages on her hands. “Like Juni.” She added it so nonchalantly, so casually, but it left Clarke and Bellamy stunned.

“Juni?” Clarke questioned, looking at Bellamy with a frown. “Does she mean Jasper?”

With a shake of his head and a quizzical look of his own he turned to the girl on his lap. “Cleo, who’s Juni?” 

She’d never talked about anything apart her past life, anything except for the continuum expression of the word ‘bad’ each time she woke from her dreaded nightmares. She turned to Bellamy and confidently wrapping her arms around his neck she sighed, as if it was information they should have known already. “Keeps Cleo safe,” she answered matter of factly before dropping her head to Bellamy’s shoulder. “Juni keeps Cleo and Cas safe.” She yawned before shutting her eyes, completely ignoring all other questions.

That was all they were getting, but Cleo had just opened up another mystery. Who the hell was Juni and Cas? Was one of them the woman that had approached Miller or was it someone entirely different? Tonight they wouldn't know, but tomorrow perhaps they might.

 

Clarke held a trembling Cleo against her chest, soothingly rubbing her back in an attempt to quiet her wails and softly singing _’All the Pretty Little Horses’_ a song her Father use to sing to her when Clarke had nightmares of her own. 

Tonight as the sheets tangled Cleo’s limbs and she thrashed against the covers Bellamy knew this nightmare wasn't like the others. Cleo hadn't woken up immediately, so instead of automatically succumbing to his reassuring touch she fought back. She hit him, punched him and thrashed against his chest before eventually crawling away and cowering in the corner. It took Clarke and her softly sung lullaby to gently bring the child from the depths of her nightmare.

_”Hush-a-bye, don't you cry_  
Go to sleep you little baby  
When you wake, you will have cake  
And all the pretty little horses 

_Blacks and bays, dapples and greys_  
Coach and six white horses  
Hush-a-bye, don't you cry  
Go to sleep you little baby 

_Way down yonder, down in the meadow_  
There's a poor little lamby  
Bees and butterflies flitting round his eyes  
He's crying out for his mammy 

_Hush-a-bye, don't you cry_  
Go to sleep you little baby  
When you wake, you will have cake  
And all the pretty little horses 

_Blacks and bays, dapples and greys_  
Coach and six white horses  
Blacks and bays, dapples and greys  
All the pretty little horses 

_Hush-a-bye, don't you cry_  
Go to sleep you little baby  
Go to sleep you little baby  
All the pretty little horses 

Clarke sang the song a total of three times before Cleo eventually began nodding off against her shoulder, another once just because she knew Bellamy was falling asleep with it too. And then, eventually, everything turned quiet. Cleo was asleep. Bellamy was asleep. And Clarke, well, she couldn’t. Memories of Jake Griffin buzzed through her brain and before she knew it she found herself softly crying into her pillow. Her mother had killed her father and yet it was her that paid the price. It was her that cried every night in solitary thinking it was all her fault. It was her that cowered in her own corner of her cell, sometimes allowing her head to hit the metal wall behind her, the soft thumping occasionally bringing in guards. It was all her. All alone. For an entire year. She knew she wasn't alone now though. She had… well, she had friends, friends who would never let her feel alone ever again. But even with her abundance of friends she felt as though a big chunk of her was missing.

Even growing up with a long list of boundaries and confining metal walls Jake Griffin always brought a sense of adventure. Somedays Clarke was a space cowboy and her Dad a noble space steed, galloping through the hallways of the Ark until they were eventually told to quiet their play by a grumpy guard. Other days Clarke was Marty Mcfly and Jake, a very convincing Doc Brown exploring the past and venturing to the future. But Clarke’s favourite was always exploring a make-believe Earth with her trusty companion, trekking with no boundaries, swimming in icy cold rivers, breathing in actual air. But now Clarke was actually here, Earth was no longer make-believe but her reality, and her Dad never got to see it. He never got the chance to trek, he never got the chance to swim and he never had the chance to fill his lungs with the sweet air that blows through trees. He got nothing, and that broke her.

And then there was Wells, her best friend who actually had the chance to experience all those things. He breathed the same air as her, washed his face in the same icy cold river as her and walked beside her in the wondrous forest. But he didn’t experience enough, a couple of days could never be enough. She had hated him, hated that he turned her father in and got him killed - but he didn't do it, he didn't do any of it, it was her own mother who had. He was so good, so kind, and he deserved so much better. 

Then there was Charlotte, the girl that Clarke comforted after she woke from nightmares, nightmares just like Cleo’s. Charlotte, the innocent girl who was scared and alone in this wacky world. Charlotte, the twelve year old who took her best friend from her. Charlotte, the twelve year old that jabbed a knife in the neck of good and kind Wells. Charlotte, the girl that jumped from the cliff to stop people being hurt after what she did. Poor, lost, misconstrued Charlotte. Torn from life, lost from guidance. 

She should've save them, she could've saved them.

With a shuddering breath Clarke tried her hardest to fall asleep and leave those awful feelings behind her, but the tears didn't stop falling, not even when Bellamy’s own breath hitched which was followed by a deep sigh. “Clarke?” he asked groggily, the sleepiness still evident in his tone. “You alright?”

Clarke sighed.

She hadn't meant to wake him. If there was anything Bellamy needed it was a good uninterrupted sleep, but he was such a light sleeper, and it couldn't be help. Bellamy Blake knew her, sensing when things were wrong.

“Yeah,” she managed to reply back quietly. “Just thinking.”

The bed rattled a little as Bellamy shuffled closer to her. “You’re crying.” 

“No I’m not,” she very unconvincingly lied before completely breaking down. Tears stung as they rolled down her cheeks and her chin trembled uncontrollably. Bellamy's strong pair of arms reached out and pulled her towards him, her hands immediately clutching his shirt. He held her in complete silence, rocking her gently as the tears soaked his chest. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her softly after she had calmed down a little and the tears stayed put in their ducts. 

She gave a sniffle in reply before resting her head on his shoulder. “My Dad, Wells, Charlotte.” She gave a shuddering sigh. “They’re meant to be alive, Bellamy. They shouldn't be dead. They- they’re meant to be alive.” Another sob escaped her lips before Bellamy pulled her just a little bit closer. “I couldn't save them.”

“I know,” Bellamy spoke quietly back to her. “I think about Charlotte too.” He gave a pensive sigh before continuing. “There’s not a day I wished I’d done more to help her, or reworded the advice I gave to her. The things I could’ve done differently, the things I could've changed. Same with my Mom. I never should've taken Octavia to that dance, I never should've risked something that stupid. But it’s in the past.” He rested his head atop of her head. “The past can’t be changed. Sometimes in this messed up world the best people die while the worst people live. It’s not fair but it’s life. We have to accept it and move on.”

“What if I don't want to accept it,” Clarke replied back, frown evident on her face. “It’s crap.” 

“I know,” Bellamy breathed into her hair. “But it’s inevitable.” 

Clarke stayed quiet for a few moments before slowly lifting her head. She faced him. Him warm dark eyes stared back at her, patiently waiting for her blue to speak. She gently shook her head. 

“Everyone dies, Clarke. Even those you love.”

With another shake of her head Clarke shuffled further down the bed, turning away from Bellamy and resting her head on her flimsy pillow. She was annoyed. She didn't want to listen to him. She didn't believe him, she didn't want to. Bellamy stared sleepily at Clarke’s moonlit curls before sighing and shuffling himself down. He knew he had upset her. 

“Clarke,” he began, but he never had the chance to finish. 

Clarke gave an annoyed sigh before she turned herself around, coming face to face with Bellamy, their noses inches away from one another’s. 

“Not if I can help it, ok?” 

He caved. “Ok.”

“Good,” she sighed, before shutting her eyes, but sleep still didn't come easily. 

Minutes passed before Bellamy spoke again. “You couldn't save your Dad, we couldn't save Wells and we couldn't save Charlotte. But we’re going to save Cleo.”

With a silent nod Clarke agreed. Little did they know that it wasn't just Cleo that needed saving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for waiting. Hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is always encouraged and if you enjoy please don’t forget to press that KUDOS button. 
> 
> Xx Sarah


	6. Chapter 6

“No,” he whispered quietly to himself, his trembling hands clasping together and he vigorously shook his head. “She listens to me, she wouldn't have wandered off. I told her to stay, sh-she listens to me.” 

In front of him paced what could only be described as a woman taking the form of a vicious storm. “The little brat is gone,” she screamed, finally snapping. “The deal has fallen through.”

Beside him he could feel the minimal heat of a body at his side, occasionally grazing his bare skin as they cowered. But he didn't have the time to comfort this poor soul. There were other things that needed his direct attention, such as the task of keeping up his impeccable act of confusion. 

“Did you check the right cave?” 

The storm took a step forward and snarled, pressing her face to the iron as far as the bars would allow. Her yellow teeth and reddened lips were the only thing he kept his eyes focussed on, for if he looked at her vicious eyes his act might have cracked. 

“Do you think me a fool, Juniper?” the lips hissed. Her knuckles began to whiten around the bars as she kicked at the ground with the toe of her leather boot, showering the creatures inside the cell in grey dust. “I checked the right cave. Did _you_ put her in the right goddamn cave?”

“Yes,” he lied, eyes never journeying up to her eyes. “The one in the woods behind the Inn.”

It was the same place all the other exchanges took place, the other _non-living_ exchanges. He had been doing the same exchanges of illicit items for a while now. Rue would send him out every couple of months with a satchel around his shoulder and strict orders not to look inside. He'd leave under the cover of darkness, place the satchel wherever Rue had instructed him to before returning before Dawn, he drew less attention to himself that way. It was his own little mission, the only thing basically keeping them alive. He wouldn't dare try to run away during those trips, because then he'd never know the fate of Cas and he'd never be able to live with himself. So he did what Rue told him and his life in hell carried on. But then, a couple of months ago, Rue mysteriously acquired a toddler. She was grubby, skinny and thrown into the cell with them and Juniper took care of her, just like he did for Cassian.

The girl, as it turns out, was a delivery, a delivery Juniper didn't wish to make. He put her in the wrong cave on purpose, maybe then she’d have a chance.

“Why did you do it?” Cassian asked Juniper later that night as they huddled and shivered against one another, their skin icy cold against the concrete floor. 

It was a difficult question to answer when your audience was a five year old. 

“Well,” Juni spoke slowly. “Rue isn't a good person. Whoever was going to get that girl from the cave wasn't going to be a good person either. But there are good people in the world Cas, we just haven't met them yet.”

“But we will?” Cas asked softly, his teeth chattering together louder than his voice ever would. 

“Yeah,” Juni nodded decisively. “We will.”

He had hope.

 

______________________

 

Clarke softly worked the soapy suds of Monty’s handmade soap into Cleo’s hair and watched as the warm water she was submerged in turned to an opaque grey. “Close your eyes,” Clarke softly urged the little girl before wiping away the grime that had accumulated on her skin over the past few days. The yellowing smudge of the fading bruise was still noticeable under her eye, and the light pink scarring skin that lined her cheek still itched, but it was healing. The physical aspect was easy, the other parts might take a little longer. 

Every night Cleo still screamed out in terror as nightmares clouded her dreams. Every night Bellamy and Clarke tried their hardest to get her back to sleep, either singing, rocking or telling her stories until she eventually drifted. And every morning they woke up exhausted. Cleo refused to speak to anyone other than Bellamy or Clarke and still she ate every meal like it were to be her last. Clarke sat there absentmindedly staring, eyes fixed on nothing in particular as Cleo played with the bubbles of her bath. There was so much she wanted to know about her past and yet, at the same time, she didn't want to know anything at all. All she knew is that whoever did this to her be it a group or one person they were going to pay.

“Done?” the little girl asked after a while, glancing up at Clarke with those sea blue, almond shaped eyes of hers.

“Yeah,” Clarke breathed in reply before soldiering a smile. She stood, grabbed a large towel and wrapped it tightly around the living, breathing bundle of bones, making sure to squeeze her extra tight like her parents did for her when she was young. Cleo managed one of those cute, rare, lopsided smiles as Clarke rubbed the cotton against her damp skin. “Now,” Clarke breathed after she had finished, pulling the knitted dress over the little’s girls head, smiling as Cleo emerged from the neck hole. “Breakfast time.” 

 

______________________

 

With her hand wound tightly with Cleo’s they walked up to the ration table and instantly met with a very worse for wear looking Jasper. He squinted in the mid-morning sun but even so, his blood shot eyes were still evident. He managed a half hearted acknowledgement of morning before grunting. It was no secret that Jasper was an avid drinker of Monty’s Moonshine, and more often than not he appeared in the morning with a considerate amount of alcohol running through his system. And every week he asked the same stupid question. “What’s a cure for a hangover?”

Clarke simply stared at him, an amused look on her face before replying. “I recommend not drinking to begin with.”

The same reply she always gave him.

“Come on Clarke,” Jasper scoffed back quickly, taking a handful of nuts (the non hallucinogenic kind) from the table. “Just one time I’ll get you drunk, like proper drunk. And then you’ll realise how mean you're being to me every morning.”

She gave him a smirk before he began to walk away only to add in mock seriousness “I understand though. You and Bellamy gotta keep up your parental duties, having to be Mama and Papa bear to all your cubs must be hard work.” 

“Jasper,” Clarke growled in reply. “I thought I told you not to call us Mama and Papa anymore. It’s weird.”

He shrugged then with a shake of her head Clarke waved him off before averting her attention back to the girl staring up at her. Her wet golden strands of newly washed hair were beginning to slowly dry in the morning sun and there was a newfound rosiness to her cheeks that Clarke had never noticed before. “Alright, what are we having today, Miss? We have berries, nuts and I might even be able to scrounge up some rock cakes.” 

But Cleo didn’t answer, instead she just bit her lip and stared intently, eventually lifting her arms up in the air as an indication that she wanted to be picked up. Clarke obliged picking up the girl who was lighter than air.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asked her gently, brushing a damp curl away from her eyes as the little girl clung to her neck. “You not hungry?”

Cleo stayed silent for a moment, eyeing Clarke with a frown before softly speaking. “What’s a Mama and Papa?”

 

______________________

 

Clarke had only just managed to tie the final braid in Cleo’s wild hair before she tore herself from her grasp and went sprinting across camp. For a split second Clarke had no idea why but then she saw it. With her little determined face and her tongue sticking out Cleo pushed her way through the crowd until she finally met her goal. With a final leap she collided with Bellamy, and a grin spread across Clarke’s face when she realised that Bellamy was ready for her. He scooped her up into his arms and held her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was as if he had been gone for a lifetime when in actual fact he had been gone for a mere two hours. 

“I got braids,” Clarke could hear Cleo announce excitedly as they came closer. “And I had a bath.”

“A bath!” Bellamy exclaimed, smile evident on his lips before his gaze fell on Clarke. His warm brown eyes dragged themselves downwards before quickly darting back up to her eyes, a quizzical look on his face.

Bellamy dropped to his knees, placed Cleo firmly on the ground and with a wink produced the reddest apple Clarke had ever seen. Cleo took it with a wide smile and immediately bit into it and while she was preoccupied with her gift Bellamy stood. 

“You look different.”

The bluntness of the statement startled her.

“A bad different or-“ Clarke asked before she was quickly cut off.

“No!” Bellamy basically yelled before composing himself. “A good different. I- uh, I like the hair.” 

With a breathless laugh Clarke shook her head before looking back up at him. She’d thrown it up a couple of hours ago because it was annoying the crap out of her, and while the bun had originally started at the top of her head it had inevitably flopped to the nape, with multiple strands escaping the grasp of the elastic. In her eyes she looked like a mess, in his eyes however she looked… good. Great even. Better yet, she looked beautiful.

“Thank you,” she smiled before glancing down at Cleo with a hint of a blush on her cheeks, only daring to look back at Bellamy when he began to talk after a stretched pause between them. 

“Octavia and Lincoln are coming by later this afternoon to uh- to talk about well…everything really. To get it all figured out.” 

Clarke saw the way his face was etched with pain, the type you'd feel when you knew that you were stepping into dangerous territory. But the truth needed to be revealed and if there was anyone who could figure this whole mess out it would be Lincoln. 

They had three minuscule amounts of information to go by:

Cleo had been recently abused when Bellamy had found her in the cold damp cave a few days ago.  
Someone was currently looking for her.  
Someone by the name of Juni kept her safe. 

What the hell they were meant to do with the information was unclear, but for Cleo to remain safe they would have to dig and investigate into whether or not the task would be an easy one.

Bellamy ran his hair slowly through his inky back curls before sighing, the pack on his back slipping off of his shoulder in the process. The weight of it tugged his whole arm downwards and Bellamy immediately winced in pain. Clarke had angrily advised him a couple of days ago that if he were to pick up an axe anytime this week she would brutally attack him. The stubborn bastard had originally hurt it a few days ago by the excessive reliance he had on his muscles and yet he allowed it to get even worse by trying to ignore it. He took the advice grudgingly and hadn't once gone near an axe these past few days, but there were plenty of other extraneous activities that were ruining the chance of his shoulder healing properly. Such as his insistence on going on bunker scavengers and hunting parties. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke breathed, eyes soft as she looked up at him. “Your shoulder…” 

“Is fine,” Bellamy spoke defiantly meeting her gaze. That was Bellamy, if he needed help he'd ask. 

“No it’s not. You need to rest it,” she tried.

She wasn't going to give in that easily.

“Clarke, I’ve got things to do,” he argued with a sigh. “It doesn't even hurt.”

Bellamy only just managed to suppress a string of profanities as Clarke poked at his completely not fine shoulder and with a raise of her eyebrow she won the argument. 

“Rest,” Clarke spoke with a conclusive nod. Then significantly softer she added, “Cleo needs a nap anyway.” 

At the mention of her name Cleo looked up at the figures above her with sweet apple juice running down her chin. She was like the pure definition of cute and how anyone would ever dare lay a finger on her was beyond them. She stood quickly before wiping her chin with the back of her hand and giving them both a tired but satisfied grin. 

With a sigh Bellamy caved, he couldn't argue with that. “Come on then.” He took her gently by the hand and led her into the tent while Clarke gathered anything she would need to help nurse him back to relative health. With her arms full of ginger, clean rags and a sweet oil the grounders had gifted her she emerged through the flap of the tent to find Cleo drifting softly into slumber with a very perplexed looking Bellamy resting his head against the wooden headboard and staring up at the roof.

He dragged his gaze towards her and gave her a halfhearted cock of the head before sighing as he noticed the things in her arms. 

She gave a quiet laugh before grinning, “I was training to be a doctor Bellamy. You can’t expect me to do nothing.” Then with her back towards him to hide the possibility of a blush on her cheeks she innocently requested for him to take off his shirt. 

He scoffed and she spun around to find him smirking. “If you wanted to see me shirtless you should've just said.”

It seems the flirty, cocky Bellamy that roamed camp during the first few days on Earth had made a miraculous appearance yet again. 

She huffed, grabbing the sweet oil she took a step towards the bed. “How do you suppose I treat your shoulder if its covered?” She asked sweetly. “Bedsides, I’ve seen you shirtless without asking before. For the first month down here I didn't even know if you owned a shirt.” 

At that he laughed and swung his legs around the side of the cot, but as he went to pull the shirt past his rib cage his breath hitched and his forehead creased with the intense pain. This wasn't just a sore shoulder anymore.

“Here,” Clarke spoke softly, voice etched with sympathy. She reached out and grabbed at the hem, only pausing to look up at Bellamy in a silent question like glance. He swallowed thickly before giving her a nod. Gently, she pulled the material upwards, her fingers brushing the warm skin of his stomach, his muscles rippling under her touch. With slow, precise movements the shirt was manoeuvred around the injured shoulder and was successfully removed before being thrown carelessly over the desk. 

They both sat there, still in extremely close proximity as Clarke’s curious eyes found themselves staring at his stomach. Sure Clarke noticed his fairly good looking body during those early days but his body was attached to a power hungry asshole. It’s hard to admire such works when your focus is completely taken by the words that left his mouth. But he wasn't that person anymore and it wasn't only his personality that had changed. The sun had transformed everyones skin from a sickly greyish shade to a healthy sun kissed one, and Bellamy’s excessive time outside this summer meant one of two things. 1) His skin had turned to a deep caramel hue and 2) his abs had popped, wow did they look good.

Clarke could faintly register the sound of her name being called and as her eyes darted up she saw Bellamy’s lips moving through a chuckle. 

“You done?” he laughed, an unrecognisable glint in his eye. 

Finally Clarke’s thought process and mouth caught up with one another. She swallowed then quickly nodded. “Lie on your stomach.”

He obliged albeit slowly, dropping to his stomach and resting his head against the mattress, eyelids fluttering softly, an automatic response as he buried his head in the soft furs. Clarke took just a distracted moment to take in the view before climbing onto the mattress and sinking her knees next to his left side. It was at that moment that realised how many freckles were spread across his warm skin. They were like thousands of constellations spread across the night sky or paint splattered across a blank canvas. It was fucking beautiful and yet fucking tragic because instead of a clean canvas and a clear sky, it was scarred.

Very gently she pressed an experimental hand onto the tender muscle and listened carefully for his response. She was not expecting an actual groan. 

“Shit,’ he mumbled, embarrassment clear in his voice. “Sorry, that just feels really good.” 

With a chuckle Clarke continued, gently but firmly pressing the pads of her fingers and the heels on her palms into the knotted muscles trapped underneath his skin, all while Bellamy tried his hardest not to moan, groan and gasp too loudly. There was a child sleeping literally a few inches away after all. 

“Everything alright?” Clarke asked after a stretched silence to which she only received a hum in reply, a clear sign he was falling asleep. 

She smiled softly to herself and slowed her movements, lazily caressing the skin and the scars that made up his back. The scars is what she paid most attention to, she wished they never existed but like many others in this camp - she had them too. Her hands slipped from his skin and fell into her lap instead, she couldn't bring herself to touch them anymore. 

“Clarke,” she heard him whisper softly before he turned his head to look at her. “Cleo told me who her parents were today.”

With a stunned expression and a frown she blinked. Clarke had explained to Cleo the definition of the word a few hours prior but she never said anything more about it. Learning that Cleo might actually have parents was a bit of a shock to her. “Where are they? Why hasn't she said anything? Why didn't you say anything?” She sprung question after question onto him because, yet again, she was shocked.

But Bellamy stayed silent, eyes turning glassy as they stared into hers. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “Who are they?”

Finally he said a singular word. 

“Us.”

And at that point onwards Clarke knew they were never going to let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys!
> 
> I’m so sorry this took longer than expected it has just been a hectic month and a half. Hopefully this will help you all get through the hiatus (I don’t honestly know how I’m going to cope having to wait for a new season!) and I hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> As always please don’t forget to comment and kudos if you liked and constructive criticism is always helpful.
> 
> Thank you for reading 
> 
> Xx 
> 
> Sarah


	7. Chapter 7

Bellamy was lured from his sleep by the touch of a hand gently nudging at his bare back. The disorientation hit the second he opened his eyes. He frowned, gaze looking beyond the opening of the tent and finding the world being basked in afternoon sun. He blinked, clearing his weary eyes before turning to his side and finding Clarke sitting beside him.

“It’s called napping, Bellamy,” Clarke spoke softly, sensing his confusion as she handed him a warm cup of ginger tea, their fingers brushing. “You were out for about two hours.” 

He napped? Bellamy Blake hadn't had a nap since the age of four. 

“Why didn't you wake me?” he asked groggily, leaning himself on his forearms, a yawn escaping his lips as he took in the familiar surroundings of Clarke’s tent; their tent?

She shrugged. “You needed it.” 

He certainly did, but never would he admit it freely. 

He examined Clarke. Her hair was even messier than before, its strands barely even holding in the clutches of the tie. But even so, he loved her hair like that. It showed the small side of her carefree nature that allowed her to be free from the desire to be perfect one hundred percent of the time. 

He brought the cup to his lips and hid his smile over the lip of the tin. He tried to remember that last time someones hair had made him so giddy with joy, soon realising that it had never happened before. It wasn't the hair at all, it was the girl attached to it. 

“Lincoln's here,” she spoke softly, avoiding his gaze as she looked down at her lap. “He wants to meet Cleo.”

Solemnly Bellamy nodded in reply before turning to the little girl that lay blissfully asleep at his side. 

“I don”t wanna lose her,” Bellamy sighed dejectedly. It’s hard to grow so attached to someone then having the treat of that someone being ripped from you. He loved Cleo like a daughter. 

“Hey,” Clarke whispered, lifting her nimble fingers and pulling Bellamy’s chin so he looked directly at her, his brown eyes mixing with her blue. “We won’t.”

Dropping her hand from his chin she clenched it into a fist and lifted her pinky finger to wiggle in his face.

“I pinky promise.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up into a small smile as he hooked his pinky with hers. 

“Ok.”

A fool in love tends to believe anything.

***

“No markings,” Lincoln noted, eyes scanning Cleo’s face and bare arms as she sat upon Bellamy’s lap, curling closer into him when all the focus was directed at her. She preferred the shadows. It was better to not be seen. “Was she wearing anything when you found her? Stones? Emblems? A piece of clothing maybe?” 

“Just this.” Clarke gave him the grubby grey material of the wannabe skirt Cleo had worn when Bellamy had found her. It was a useless garment which did barley anything to protect her from the elements and therefore in Clarke’s eyes was insignificant. But after a thorough examination by Lincoln it turns out maybe it wasn’t.

“Here,” Lincoln exclaimed with a sense of pride in his voice. “You see that?” He held up the frayed edge of the skirt to show a splash of seeping brownish-red. 

“Blood.” Clarke confirmed with a frown before adding, “How does this help us?” 

“It’s not blood,” Lincoln spoke, shaking his head slowly. “It’s Sumac. It’s used to dye fabric.” 

“Ok…” Bellamy spoke softly, not really sure where exactly this was going. 

“In Polis there’s a vendor who specialises in these sorts of dyes,” Lincoln paused, drifting his attention back to Cleo. “Can you open your hands for me?”

Looking up at Bellamy with eyes full of query, she only obliged when he gave her a quick nod. Opening her fists she revealed her hands to the foreign grounder, the way they shook going noticed by everyone in the surrounds. She was terrified of strangers, even if they planned on causing her no harm.

“See?” Lincoln spoke, reaching out to take her hand, obviously noticing something. However, Cleo flinched and withdrew her hands, holding them close to her chest as her eyes filled with panic, the bandages Clarke had recently just changed unraveling slightly. 

“You’re ok,” Bellamy immediately reassured her, gently smoothing his hands over hers and coaxing them open again. “He won’t touch you if you don't want him too, alright?”

She nodded. Lincoln continued. 

“They’re tinted pink. What’s the bet that vendor knows something about her or the woman looking for her. He’d need to get his supplies from somewhere, right?”

Clarke and Bellamy shared a glance.

“Ok. So say we find the vendor, then find Cleo’s alleged mother. What happens then?” Clarke questioned, sneaking another glance at Bellamy, then Cleo seated upon his lap. 

“Well,” Lincoln began, “If we discover that she’s been the one mistreating this child-“

“We kill her.” 

Everyone turned to Bellamy in shock, daring not to say even a single word to him. He didn't even blink, firmly set on his answer. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke eventually cautioned. “We don’t decide who lives and dies.” She was reiterating her own words from when he became to close to killing Murphy the night Charlotte jumped to her death. She was hoping, make that praying to sway his firm belief on the matter.

It didn’t seem to work.

“Come on Clarke. You know damn well whoever did this to Cleo deserves it. You don't touch the innocent, let alone a child.”

“And we don't talk about this in front of a child,” Clarke spoke through gritted teeth, nodding directly to the little girl on his lap. For a second there he seemed oblivious to his actions before finally he sighed and held Cleo’s body tighter against his own, almost as if he was shielding her from his own wrong doing.

“We’re not savages,” Lincoln announced. “We have laws. Treason, murder, theft- it all goes through the chief of clan. They decide whether banishment or capital punishment is necessary. The major cases go through the commander. We follow the laws to keep the peace.” 

Bellamy scoffed knowing damn well they often did a terrible job of doing exactly that. Sometimes it seemed that all the grounders wanted was war. There was always some conflict.

“I’m coming with you,” Bellamy spoke firmly, eyes staring directly into Lincoln’s. “To Polis.”

From the corner of the room where Clarke had been picking at her cuticles she looked up. “No.” She turned to Lincoln. “He’s staying here. You can go with Miller. He knows what the woman looks like.”

“Clarke, you don't get to tell me what to do.” Bellamy had raised his voice and while doing so Cleo’s breath quickened, panicking a great deal as she squirmed from Bellamy’s gasp and ran towards Clarke. She wrapped her skinny arms around her legs and began to whimper. 

Bellamy’s heart sunk.

He hadn't meant to scare her off, to frighten her like he did.

Tears welled in her dulled blue eyes as her mouth remained open in a continuous gasp of terror. He had unintentionally reminded her of the dreaded past she had to live through previously in her young life. 

Clarke sighed before lifting Cleo into her arms and balancing her on her hip. “Lincoln, can you give us a minute please?”

He only nodded, giving them both sympathetic glances before heading through the flap of the tent and disappearing from sight. 

Bellamy began to stutter an apology, scared of saying the wrong thing. He didn't want to rid the trust they had with one another, this newly found father daughter relationship he didn't realise he ever wanted until now. 

“Cleo,” he decided on calmly, taking a step towards her and Clarke collectively. “I didn't mean to raise my voice.”

The girl buried herself into the golden locks of her protector and tried shutting him out. 

He wasn't going to let her. 

“I didn't mean to scare you. I-,” he breathed before stopping himself. She needed to feel safe again in order for him to get through to her. There was only one way to do that. “Papa is very, very sorry.”

The word felt somewhat foreign on his tongue but it seemed to work. Cleo turned to look at the man across from her as a tear rolled down her cheek. He took that as a sign to continue. 

“When someone’s very passionate about something they usually want to let the whole world know.” He felt two sets of blue eyes on him now but only focussed on one, even if he was addressing the both of them. “I did that by raising my voice, and that was wrong. But you're safe here. You're home, remember?”

Cleo brought a hand to her cheek and wiped it before taking in a shuddering breath. Her head ducked then rose in one quick motion. A nod. 

“We-“ He turned to Clarke, unsure as to whether or not he should say the word. Quickly deciding _screw it._ “Your Mama and I are trying to keep you safe. That’s our passion.”

Clarke sighed yet again, letting Cleo slip to the ground. The girl didn't make any sort of movement towards Bellamy, but she didn't cower either. 

“Cleo needs you here,” Clarke spoke softly, catching his eye and holding it. “I need you here.”

He faltered then collected himself. “And I need to do this.”

“We can’t lose you, Bellamy.”

He wasn’t just her co-leader anymore.

Taking a step towards Clarke he reached out to grab her hand, lacing their fingers together. Squeezing tightly he ran his thumb across her pale skin. “You won’t,” he spoke with conviction and she believed him. 

Clarke went to sleep that evening with his arm draped across her waist and his breath warm on her neck. 

Around midnight she stirred to his lips on her shoulder and the words, “go back to sleep,” being whispered in her ear.

When she awoke the next morning there was no significant weight holding her down, the skin on her neck felt no excess heat prickling at it and his lips were grazing no part of her body.

To her left was Cleo. To her right was a note. 

_’Forgive me,’_ it read. _’Take care of our girl.’_ And that’s when the tears started. 

He had told her last night that they wouldn't lose him.

But he never pinky promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys!
> 
> I’m so sorry about such a long wait and please don’t kill me because this chapter is so small. The next, I promise, will be a long one with lots of angst. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading and remember I love receiving all types of comments and critiques - anything that makes me become a better writer is greatly appreciated. I love writing for you all and any feedback will help me improve.
> 
> See you in the next update!
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> Xx Sarah


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys!
> 
> Sorry this chapter took so long but here it is! Hope you all enjoy!

She was so warm and so real. 

They’d slept in the same bed for a multitude of days now, but never did they venture to each others respective sides. It was like an unwritten, unspoken rule. He remembered holding her hand the night of the storm, and waking up with her gone. He remembered pulling her close the night she broke down and holding her until she pulled away. And he remembered her fingers digging into his back muscles as he tried his hardest not to openly relish in her touch. But the rule broke the instant she pushed herself into his side and rested her head upon his heart later in the evening. There was something so intimate about holding someone close as they slept, that he had no other choice but to loop his arm around her side and keep her there. 

That was until he knew it was time to leave. 

He would be lying if he said it wasn't hard. It was. But he had to do this, for Clarke and Cleo collectively. 

He began to slip his arm from her waist, but Clarke stirred instantly. Because of course she would. She whispered an incoherent mumble as she pushed further up against him. He almost groaned. 

He could've chosen to stay. 

He didn’t. 

He leant down and pressed his lips against the roundness of her shoulder. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, still internally fighting himself. He tried convincing himself that he'd be back in a few days, but the chances of that being true were slim. It was a one and a half day trip to Polis. One and a half day trip back if they were unsuccessful in their findings. He’d be leaving camp for the longest time he had ever. 

He waited until he could hear her begin to snore softly before, inch by inch, he slipped from her warmth and stood at the end of the bed — where Cleo usually preferred to sleep. And there she was. She had her arms stretched above her head, with her delicate little face burrowed in her right shoulder. 

He was doing this for the both of them.

Pressing a light kiss to her forehead he felt another pull to stay. 

He couldn’t.

Quickly he scribbled an apology note on a nearby piece of blank paper before glancing once more at two out of the three most important girls in his life. They were so blissfully unaware. 

Pulling on his jacket, he grabbed his already packed backpack and clipped his gun holster around his waist. The handgun had 3 rounds. He’d use them all if he had to.

He swallowed thickly before heading towards the camps main gate where the others were waiting. 

“Time to get moving,” he ordered, knowing that if he stayed a moment longer he mightn't have been able to force himself to leave. 

Miller, Lincoln and Octavia all nodded back at him and began moving, he followed suit. But before he could catch up to the others he felt a pull at his arm. He turned to find Harper, radio in hand. 

She thrusted it in his direction before murmuring, “Here.” She sighed when he didn't take it. “Think about Clarke.”

He still made no move to take it from her. It’d only make it harder. Wouldn't it? He didn't want to fight with her over a device made from wires and scrap metal. If they were to fight over this he wanted it to be face to face. “I am thinking about Clarke,” he replied quietly. 

“Then use your goddamn radio,” she begged. “If anything goes wrong promise me you'll radio her.”

He stared at the girl in front of him and she stared knowingly back. “I promise,” he caved eventually, taking the radio from her and tucking it in the waistband of his trousers. He turned to leave again but not before turning back to the blonde whose hair wasn't the right shade of summer. “Can you look after them for me? I know Clarke can look after herself but…” he trailed off. 

“I will,” she nodded. 

He nodded back.

And then they were gone. 

—-

In reality, Clarke shouldn't have found it that hard to live without Bellamy. She’d done it for a whopping eighteen years of her life, and yet she never really realised how much someone can affect your whole world just six months after appearing in it. 

Craving the physical comfort she had received from the man she adored just a few mere hours earlier, Clarke found herself dragging Cleo’s body closer towards her own and holding her close to her aching chest. The wisps of her braids tickled her nose, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It kept her awake, allowing her to bask in the feeling of a heartbeat against her own. The beat was small and quick, and was met with even smaller and quicker breaths that fanned across the skin of Clarke’s neck. But at least she was real and, well…here.

Things became increasingly harder in the nighttime. During the day Clarke went about her job in keeping the camp running and safe for all its inhabitants. She lead the construction team on the final construction of their first ever communal cabin while Cleo played with sticks by her feet, Clarke rolled bandages and counted stock in med bay while Cleo painted with a crappy mixture of crushed up berries and water on butchers paper, and while Clarke tended to a fractured wrist Cleo only watched silently from her stool in the corner. But when trying to consult a terrified three year old after another one of her nightmares and all she asks is for, “a story like Papa tells them,” one may find it hard to keep themselves from falling apart. 

“I don’t know if I can,” Clarke admitted quietly as she trailed her fingers up and down the child’s boney spine in an effort to soothe her. “Your Papa is a very good story teller, but your Mama lacks entirely in that field. What do you want to hear about?”

“You,” Cleo asked softly as she turned her head to look at her. Noticing instantly the way Clarke's face entirely changed she questioned another alternative in order to relieve any of the potential pain she might've caused. “Or we could just go find Papa and ask him for a story. He won’t mind.” 

Cleo, even in the midst of her own pain, couldn't bare to see others feeling the same way. 

Clarke gave the child a broken smile before shuffling further down the bed so that she lay face to face with her. “We can’t do that, sweetheart.” 

She wasn't entirely comfortable telling her about where she came from just yet. She might’ve found it hard to understand, even Clarke sometimes found it hard to understand. 

Cleo only frowned and the answer. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Clarke whispered. “When your Papa comes back, he’ll tell you the most amazing story. The biggest and most interesting story in the whole wide world. Would you like that?”

The youngster nodded tiredly before fluttering her eyes shut. “Can you see me a song?”

That she could do. 

“Yeah,” Clarke replied, completely grateful that Cleo’s eyes were now shut so she wouldn't see the stray tear that rolled down her cheek. “Of course.” 

—-

Bellamy prodded at his serving of freshly caught rabbit with displeasure. He wasn't hungry and what was worse was that there wasn't a second hungry mouth to feed. No little girl looking up at him with pleading eyes and silently asking for his serving.

His feet were raw from walking throughout most of last night and all of today, all on mostly uneven ground. The amount of stones and pebbles he had pulled from his boots was unbelievable, the ache that was relieved from his shoulder was not only back but worse than ever, and exhaustion seeped into him through every pore in his body. 

Next to him he could hear the ruffling of Miller’s sleeping bag, shuffling closer towards him. “Here,” he spoke passing him a glass bottle filled with some sort of amber liquid. 

“Please tell me this isn't alcohol,” Bellamy sighed, even though he already knew it definitely was. He twisted the cap and took a whiff of the extremely strong scent. “Rum. Really, Miller?”

“It helps me sleep,” he mumbled in reply, snatching the bottle from his friend and dragging a gulp. His face twisted from the taste but he swallowed none the less. “You having any?” 

Bellamy only shook his head and replied with a firm, “No.” He threw his meal into the dying fire and slipped into his sleeping bag, the space so small and confined that it felt too unnatural to even attempt sleep. He was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. He toyed with the idea of pulling out the radio. But he promised Harper he’d only call her if anything went wrong. Everything was fine, in its own bitter-sweet way.

He looked up at the stars and wondered if she was looking at them too. 

—-

She wasn’t. Her head was buried in Bellamy’s pillow, breathing deeply and trying to imagine he was there with her. 

But someone else was.

The thatched roof was deteriorating, creating various rips that caused havoc whenever it rained but when the night was clear, well then things weren't so bad. 

Stretched across his lap was a boy with copper brown hair and russet brown eyes. From his bottom lip dripped blood the colour of cherry wine, seeping into the ripped piece of cloth Juni had tore from his shirt. The brown haired boys jaw had turned an ugly shade of purple and while Juni had desperately tried to get Cassian’s tears to subside it didn't work. 

He sniffled, and occasionally allowed a cry to escape his lips before it was tentatively muffled by the older boys hand. “You can’t let her hear you,” Juni whispered, wiping his tears away. “Just focus on the sky and don't let it get to you.”

He only cried harder. 

“The sky isn't getting us out of here,” he sobbed while Juni only pulled him closer. 

The kid was right. The sky wasn't going to get them out of there. But the teenagers that fell from it were. 

—-

The morning that followed was a red one. And it wasn't just the sky that painted with that hue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go guys!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support I’ve been getting recently it really means a lot to me!
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> Xx
> 
> Sarah


	9. Chapter 9

Polis was a chaotic mess of people, enclosed spaces, towering buildings and skin sticky with sweat, the droplets hanging tightly onto their flesh no mater how hard they tried to wipe it away. It was meant to be autumn, and yet it felt as though they had landed on the sun, not earth. 

“Eyes sharp,” Lincoln muttered in the general direction of Octavia, Bellamy and Miller, “but keep your heads down. There may be peace, but there is still distrust.”

Somehow Bellamy believed that maybe there would never be a world in which was built from entirely peace alone.

They did as they were told, scanning the stalls with their heads as low as possible until, finally, Octavia spotted what was to be described as the complete opposite of what Bellamy had in mind. 

“Guys,” she murmured, nodding her head towards where an elderly man was rearranging his stock that was scattered around his store. A store in which metres of dyed fabrics hung from a thick wire, swaying softly in the hot wind that blew through the city. The colours of the material varied from deep indigo, flaxen yellow, all the way to the deep red sumac produced. 

With vast determination Bellamy began to move towards the man before he felt a tight hand on his arm. 

“I’ll go,” Lincoln spoke in his hushed, reasonable tone. “Stay here.” 

To which Bellamy only shook him off, tugging forcefully at the grasp that kept him. “Like hell I am.” 

The safety of Cleo relied on this mans knowledge. Bellamy wasn't going to just stand aside and watch someone else take ahold of the situation.

His family, his responsibility. 

———-

“I miss Papa,” Cleo mumbled into Clarke’s neck mid afternoon as she carried her to bed after the youngster had stuffed her stomach with three servings of boar for lunch. Apparently it was her favourite, though Clarke was sure the kid would eat anything put in front of her.

“I know sweetheart,” Clarke replied back softly, slipping through the tent opening and untangling herself from the child’s grip as she placed her onto the bed.

She unlaced the brown boots covering Cleo’s feet before lifting her dress up and over her head to replace it with a sleep shirt. Cleo remained quiet, lifting her arms when needed and slipping under the bed covers when Clarke pulled them back for her. The silence worried her. 

“What are you thinking about?” The blonde asked her softly as she sat at the end of the bed, noticing the furrow in her small brow. The child was an expressive one, just not with her words. And even after only knowing her for only a few days, Clarke had already memorised her instruction manual. She knew this kid better than the back of her hand. She knew something was up.

Finally she spoke. “Is Papa ever gonna come back?” Clarke didn't miss the slight tremble in her chin either. 

He’d only be gone two days, and yet it felt longer.

“Of course he is,” Clarke sighed, her heart breaking. She made her way towards the child in order to pull her into her side in a comforting embrace. “He’s just on a mission right now, but he’ll be back very soon. Ok?”

Cleo looked up at her with big blue eyes. “Mission.” She tried the words on her lips before her teeth pulled them in into a worrisome bite. “Mission,” she repeated before tears slipped down her cheeks and loud wails bellowed from her throat. “He’s not coming back.”

Clarke held her closer. “He is. I promise.” 

“No,” the child defiantly cried in retaliation, pushing away slightly. “We were on a mission. Juni said he would come back, and he didn’t,” she took a shuddering breath. “Papa isn't coming back either.”

There was that name again. 

Juni. 

Clarke’s heart dropped, remembering the night Cleo had announced the name. “Juni keeps Cleo and Cas safe.”

Why the hell would they disregard something so important?

“Cleo.” Clarke manoeuvred the child in order to get her to face her, lifting her chin gently with her finger so she looked into her eyes. “Where didn’t Juni come back to?” 

“Th- th- the dark place,” she stuttered, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. “Where Papa found me.” 

The cave.

Clarke’s heart was racing. 

“Did Juni ever hurt you?” Clarke asked her, eyeing the fading marks of her abuser. 

Cleo shook her head. 

“Did Juni get hurt too?” 

Cleo nodded. 

Fuck. 

“Come here,” Clarke ordered before she pulled the girl into her arms and was rushing across camp to Raven’s tent, pulling open the flap and without a second thought she stepped inside.

A second thought probably would've been best.

Clarke found herself staring down at two very naked people, doing something together that no child should ever witness. Cleo already suffered from enough nightmares, she didn't need more fuel for them.

Immediately Clarke clasped her hand over Cleo’s eyes, blocking the sight from her. 

But still Clarke was determined, chest heaving she waited for her presence to be known. 

Apparently they were so extremely invested in one another that even the clearings of her throat couldn't coax them out of it.

She tried a different approach.

“Jasper, would you stop for two seconds! Raven I need to contact Bellamy, I know you gave him a radio.” 

Immediately the pair sprung apart while they fumbled with blankets in order to decently cover themselves. “Clarke!” they both screamed in mortified union, matching her breathing pace as they eyed her over. 

“What do you want?” Raven finally questioned, slight frown in her brow, her hands clasped tightly onto the sheet around her chest. Apparently they were unable to hear her request beforehand, they were…busy.

“I need to speak with Bellamy. I know he has a radio.”

 

 

———-

 

 

“H-he’s in there?” Cleo whispered, pointing towards the device in Clarke’s grasp.

“Not exactly, sweetheart,” Clarke laughed good-naturedly, even hearing Bellamy static infused chuckle through the radio. 

Puzzled, Cleo manoeuvred herself closer towards the deep voice she had just heard. Lifting her finger she tapped it curiously. “Papa’s too big to fit in there.”

Sighing with a soft smile, Clarke drifted her attention back to Bellamy. “When do you think you’ll be back?” 

There was a crackled rumble of static in reply before his voice echoed around the tent. “Heron’s taking us to the supplier now. We should be there before dark.”

“Heron?” Clarke asked him quietly. 

“The vendor in Polis. H-he knew nothing, Clarke,” he replied. “He’s just trying to feed his family, but he offered to help when he found out about Cleo. I-um, I offered to house them when this is all over. Heron, his son and his grandson. I hope that’s ok.” 

Clarke bit her lip. More mouths to feed, more people to look after. But Bellamy’s heart was a big one, and he couldn't just let people people suffer. 

“Yeah,” Clarke breathed. Of course.” There was other things to worry about. “Bellamy, Cleo mentioned Juni again today.” 

The silence that followed was an obvious indication that it had slipped Bellamy’s mind too. 

“Whoever he is, he looked after Cleo before you found her. He put her in that cave, he wanted her out of whatever environment they were in. They're not all bad whoever they are. You have to save Juni—“

“And Cas,” Cleo added. “He’s my friend too.” 

“Ok,” Bellamy acknowledged. “We’ll save them too.” 

Clarke’s eyes drifted shut as she took in a deep breath and let it go, grateful for the chance to speak with him after two very long days. 

“I’m glad you're ok,” she whispered softly into the radio. “I’m glad everyones ok.” 

“You too,” the crackled reply came. “I should be back by tomorrow at the latest, alright? After we deal with the supplier, I think Heron said her name was Rue.”

Immediately Cleo’s eyes shot to the device, nostrils flaring not in anger but in terror. 

“That’s her.” Taking another deep breath Clarke took in Cleo’s expression, the one filled with fear over the mention of a singular name. “Bellamy, if need be…kill her.”

 

 

———-

 

 

 

The formulation of a well thought plan was the last thing on everyone’s mind, Bellamy’s especially. But they were struggling for a solution, weapon aimed directly at them as they stood helpless in the corner of the candle lit room. 

How it came to this stand off Bellamy was unsure, all he knew was that adrenaline was pulsing through his veins and anger seeped from every pore in his body.

Rue, a woman of unfortunate features and snarl painted lips, pointed at them a singular gun, a gun in which Bellamy knew only had three bullets. If her aim was correct, a doubtful yet plausible possibility, then she’d be able to kill three of them, only leaving one to fight with. 

Heron had left, not wanting to be apart of whatever altercation was ahead of them. Bellamy couldn't blame him really, he had a family. And yet, so did Bellamy. 

Still, that left only person to save the what sounded like children who cried loudly behind the far door of the cabin. But that wasn't going to be an option. 

They had to get all out of this together. 

“Let us go, let the everyone go, and we’ll promise nothing will happen to you,” Lincoln tried but the woman only shook her head, albeit a little timid in her actions. It seemed she was fine towering over those who were small, but the minute someone bigger and stronger came along she withdrew her mean, confident act. A coward in its rawest form.

“You can’t promise anything, not after what I've done.”

“Then why do it?” Bellamy cut in. “Didn’t get enough love growing up? Lashing out at those weaker make you feel better?”

She growled at him, snarling her lip and readjusting her grip on the handgun. “You know nothing of my pain.” 

It mightn't have been the smartest move, angering someone who's pointing a gun at you. 

He didn't care. 

“No, you're right. I have absolutely no idea what goes through your head, nor the pain you feel. But what I do know is the pain you cause completely innocent people to make yourself feel better. I found the little girl you traumatised and tried to sell, and I’ll tell you what? She is the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful little girl, but you wouldn't know that, would you? All you care about is making yourself feel better.”

Her hand began to shake as he got hisses of discouragement from the people around him. 

He continued.

“You know nothing of my pain either. And yet, I still find it in my heart to not take it out on those who did nothing to cause it. Cos’ I’m stronger than you, I’m a better person that you.”

Anguish trickled from her eyes as the woman tried her hardest to fight the sobs that fell from her lips. 

“You pick on the weak to make yourself feel strong. How do you live with yourself?”

“They’re orphans,” she tried reasoning. “I give them a roof over their heads, without me who knows where they'd be.”

 

“Safe probably,” Octavia replied. “Living with people who actually care about them.” 

Bellamy, left stunned, took a step towards the woman. “Just because they're orphans doesn't mean they can become you're personal punching bags, slaves, a resolution to your troubles. They're people too.” 

Shaking, they watched as the gun lowered ever so slightly. “I had no choice.”

She was cracking, her demeanour unravelling before their very eyes 

“There’s always a choice. You chose the wrong one.”

Throwing her head back Rue tried stopping the tears from rolling down her cheeks, an opportunity at its finest. It took a mere second before Bellamy lunged forward, reaching out in order to snatch the gun from her hand. Though her grip on the weapon was tighter than he had anticipated. 

The next few seconds were a blur of struggle, only interrupted by quick blows of the ear shattering noise of the bullets being fired from the gun. 

Bang! A bullet split right though the thatched roof and into the night sky. 

Only two left. 

Bang! A bullet grazed the skin of Bellamy’s shoulder, a hiss of pain all he had time for as they continued to fight over possession of the weapon. 

Only one left. 

Bang! A bullet cut itself cleanly through the heart of the woman Bellamy wasn't sure even had one. 

A gasp. 

A gurgle of blood.

Silence. 

All the bullets were gone, and so was her life. 

Breathless, Bellamy lay there staring up at the ceiling, taking in gulps of air as a significant weight crushed his chest. She was dead. It was over. The kids were going to be ok. Everything was going to be ok.

“A little help,” he barely managed to mutter before Lincoln, Miller and Octavia sprung into action, dragging her lifeless body off of him and pulling him to his wobbly feet. 

“You alright, man?” Miller asked, grabbing his leaders shoulder as worry etched his dark brow. 

Bellamy said nothing, just stared blankly ahead, filling his lungs with the air it lacked. Another to add to his long list of mortalities caused by his hand, and yet, this was the one he would worry the least about. 

Eventually, after heavy silent seconds trickled past, Bellamy dragged his gaze to Lincoln. 

“This doesn't look good, Bellamy.” Lincoln nodded his head towards the body on the floor. “The peace won’t last if anyone finds out what happened here. They won’t care about the story. She’s dead by the hand of a member of the Sky People. It’ll be war.” 

Bellamy's heavy steps took him towards Miller’s backpack which had been thrown near the door of the dwelling. With a determined hand he reached into the opened zipper of the backpack and grasped the bottle of rum he had stashed in there, handing it abruptly to Miller.

Bellamy took a step back, heading towards the door where the alleged children were hiding. 

“I’m getting the kids, then we’re going home.”

“And what do you want me to do with this?” Miller asked, confused.

“Start a fire, let her burn.”

 

 

———-

 

When Clarke woke it wasn't to the sounds of another of Cleo’s nightmares, nor to the sound of the night owls of the delinquent camp outside. But to the rustling of someone situated not to far away, their breathing heavy with their own exhaustion. 

She began to stir, opening her eyes to inspect the intruder, though to her blissful surprise it wasn't an intruder. 

“Bellamy!” she breathed with newfound energy and joy, swinging her legs around the side of the cot and standing herself up on uneasy feet. “You’re home.”

“Hey,” he whispered back with an easy smile, reaching for her and grabbing ahold of her waist, guiding her towards his open arms. 

To say that whenever they came into contact Clarke melted was a slight understatement. Her heart seemed to burn and thaw all at once, her lungs filling with happiness and longing for a man who loved with every inch of his heart. Her face found itself perfectly fitted into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent that had begun to fade from his pillow. Her mind buzzed with the thoughts that had been gnawing at her since the day he left. She had missed him, but thinking it wasn't enough. 

“I missed you,” she murmured into his skin, mumbled by the proximity of her mouth to his neck. 

“What was that?” he asked with a smug smile, toying with the strands of her golden hair.

She pulled back, looking at him straight in the eyes as she smirked right back at him. “I said I missed you.” She pushed his shoulder in a slight shove as a quiet laugh bubbled in her throat, adding, “You asshole,” in a move to not make the environment too intense. She just got him back, she didn't want to mess this up. 

Seeing Bellamy’s expression however reinforced the idea that maybe he felt it too, a tug in the heart that stopped beating when their skin grazed. His eyes glinting with tired joy. “I missed you too.” 

There was a long period in which nothing was said, just them basking in the small reunion. Then, softly as to not wake Cleo, Bellamy whispered, “O and Lincoln are grabbing the boys something to eat,” a glint in his eyes as he announced, “Would you like to meet our kids?” 

“Our kids?” Clarke echoed, raising one eyebrow. 

“Well yeah,” Bellamy mumbled, concern suddenly etched in his features as the thought of misunderstanding their relationship crossed his mind. “Is that ok with you?” 

Clarke smiled soft and bright. Rising to her toes she pressed her lips to the skin of his left cheek, lingering slightly before pulling back. Twisting her neck she repeated the action on his right cheek, lingering once more before retreating. Then, slowly she leant forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his parted yet stunned lips, the action lasting less then a full second.

Still, Bellamy beamed. It was enough. 

Clarke took his hand in her own, giving it a quick squeeze. “That’s more than ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys,
> 
> So I know this chapter may have seemed a little chopped and skewed, with a few parts missing. It’s just that I was trying really hard to get this chapter out before my 3 week Holiday as I didn’t want to leave you guys waiting any longer.
> 
> Anyway, despite the slight rush I hope you all enjoyed and that it turned out ok.
> 
> Thank you so much for waiting and thank you for reading. 
> 
> Xx
> 
> Sarah


	10. Chapter 10

The first thing Clarke noticed when she lay eyes upon the boys where how the eldest seemed to be surveying the area thoroughly, eyes darting quickly while the youngest was huddled under the crook of his arm. Both skinny, rags hanging around their frames. They had been gifted bread, and while one devoured it, the other seemed unsure. 

The older boy looked to be around the age of ten, with thick black hair tied loosely into a knot that sat at the nape of his neck. His left eyebrow had a scar running through it, splitting the hair growth into two equal parts. His big eyes were almond shaped, the colour a deep brown. Juniper, Clarke assumed, the protector.

He mumbled something to his companion, and soon the other boy caved, taking a heathy bite of his serving.

The younger boy, Cas obviously, looked around five and was covered head to toe in freckles, like Bellamy’s only much more lighter in colour. His skin was much fairer too, it seemed as though he hadn't seen a drop of sunlight in a very long time, possibly ever. Paleness quite the contrary to the purple spread across his jaw, product of a fist no doubt. His freckles matched the colour of his curls, copper with hints of brown. 

“Hey guys,” Bellamy spoke softly as they neared, crouching down in front of them as they sat upon a log. “This is Clarke.” 

Clarke followed suit, crouching next to Bellamy as she tried for an open smile. “Hey,” she breathed. “It’s nice to meet you both.” 

Juni nodded, at least trying for a level of understanding. Cas on the other hand, timid in action, pulled back ever so slightly. 

“I know you're both probably really scared right now,” Clarke tried, sensing the youngest’s fear. “But, I want you to know that you’re both safe here.”

Again, Juni nodded, nudging Cas slightly in an attempt to make him feel a little better. “No more Rue.”

He was ten, most likely smart enough to know what had happened that night regarding the woman who caused them all so much pain.

Bellamy nodded. “No more Rue.”

Clarke knew the woman was gone, she didn't ask how. 

A moment passed, the kids silently eating their bread, eyes low.

Clarke and Bellamy were having a conversation of their own, though it wasn't a verbal one. It was one built upon sympathetic glances and quick nods. 

“Right, once your both finished we’ll get you cleaned up a bit, then to bed,” Clarke spoke after a while, rising to her feet. “You guys must be exhausted.”

Juni faltered at that, turning his attention quickly to Bellamy. “You said we could see the girl.”

He was obviously, though grateful, still weary. No one could blame him really. 

“You will,” Bellamy confirmed. “She’s already asleep. You don't mind bunking with her, do you?”

Both boys shook their heads. 

“Good.” 

Bellamy rose, turning to Clarke when she sighed. 

“And where will we sleep?” she asked him quietly, chewing at her lip. The cot was just big enough to fit two adults and Cleo. Cleo was tiny, barely noticeable in the tangle of limbs. But two adults and three children was going to be a bit of a squeeze and Clarke wasn't looking forward to possibly sleeping on the floor again, even if Bellamy was at her side. 

“I’ll drag the cot from my old tent,” he smiled, squeezing her shoulder a little. “Why don't you go find them some better clothes to wear. I’ll meet you back at our place.” 

_Our place._

“Ok,” she breathed.

She liked the sound of that.

———-

With the boys washed and dressed in the best Clarke could scrounge up, a pair of sweats of sorts (the legs rolled up to fit him properly) and an olive green t-shirt for Juni, and an oversized burgundy sweatshirt and trimmed leggings for Cas, they made their way towards the tent. Clarke could already hear Bellamy inside and judging by the conversation he was having, Cleo was now awake. 

“I missed you, Papa,” she could hear the girl admit, voice groggy but soft. “M-missed your stories.”

Although Clarke couldn't see Bellamy just yet, she had this inkling he was smiling. 

“Tell one now.”

Bellamy sighed. “Not tonight, Cleo. I’ve got something better than a story, ok?” 

And if that wasn't the best moment to enter with boys Clarke would've been waiting a lifetime. Three sets of eyes lit up, all overwhelmed in the presence of one another as they crammed themselves into the suddenly much smaller tent. 

As Bellamy and Clarke shared a glance Juni spoke. “Hi.” 

Apparently it was all that was needed. 

Cleo flung herself off of the bed, colliding heavily with Juni’s lean legs. “Came back,” she mumbled into the fabric, feeling Juni’s arms holding her gently. She turned, looking up at her adoptive parents glassy eyed gazes. “Juni came back.”

“Like he said he would,” Clarke whispered, nodding encouragingly.

Clarke’s words came just before a choked sob of happiness from Cleo, the little girls attention drifting to the younger boy at Juni’s side. She waved meekly at him, he did the same and just because she could, she hugged him too. 

———-

The kids were all huddled closely in bed, leaving not an inch of space between one another. It was a relatively cold night, so they were bundled in an excess of blankets. The two boys drifted into slumber all too quickly, not accustomed to such warmth and comfort. Cleo took a little longer. She kept prodding at the boys and waking them, wanting them to talk to her. All it took though was a relatively firm word from Bellamy before she quit, succumbing to her own exhaustion. 

Clarke and Bellamy lay on the cot on the floor, facing one another. They weren't touching but their breaths were mingling with every exhale. “Don’t go being the hero anytime soon,” Clarke whispered into the dark. “I want to just be.”

“Be?” Bellamy asked, frowning slightly. 

“With you.”

His breath hitched, his unsure hand reaching out, carding his fingers through her hair, pushing it gently away from her face.

“With Cleo and the boys now, too. I want to live, not just survive,” she whispered. “Can we do that for a while?”

He pulled her close, tucking her head beneath his chin. “That sounds doable,” he murmured through a smile, giddy with hidden happiness. “When do we start?”

Clarke’s eyelids fluttered shut, smiling softly against the skin of his neck. She pressed a lingering kiss onto his collarbone, one hand on his chest and the other loosely draped across his torso. She liked feeling the soft thud of his heartbeat. It was slower than Cleo’s, more steady. It brought her comfort, it made her feel safe. “Right now.”

———-

Clarke would've liked to say that looking after three kids was easy, that it was all sunshine and rainbows. In all honestly - it wasn’t. It was hard. Fulfilling sure, but hard. The kids had their problems, and whilst it was in both of their nature to try and fix everything, they realised pretty quickly they couldn’t. 

Both her and Bellamy were completely exhausted. Cleo’s nightmares still woke them every night, her screams and cries never diminishing as the days turned to weeks. It was always the same. A whimper, a scream, then the crying and gasping for breath, only to be silenced and calmed by a story or a song by whoever was the most awake. 

Then, to their discovery, Cassian began to get up during the night, often leaving the tent. The first time Clarke awoke to him leaving he completely ignored her, even after she had asked, “Where are you going, buddy?” 

She left him for five minutes, a part of her thinking he was probably just going to the latrine. However, she became concerned when he didn't return after those minutes ended and so, begrudgingly, she peeled herself away from Bellamy’s embrace and went looking for him. He was found in the dropship, wondering aimlessly around on the first floor, completely unconscious. 

He was a sleepwalker. 

Just what the already tired duo needed. 

That was a month ago now, and Clarke could swear she was barely human in the mornings anymore. Once an early riser had turned quickly to a woman who grasped at every second of sleep she could. 

“Mama,” Clarke could hear Cleo whine, poking annoyingly hard at her cheek. “Maaaammma.”

This was one of those moments when she could scream in frustration. 

“What is it, Cleo?” Clarke yawned, reaching out to grab at her little hand, pulling her down onto the bed just so she’d stop. “Mama’s trying to sleep.” This whole time she hadn't once opened her eyes, trying though miserably failing to enter back into the dream that was so rudely interrupted. 

“I’m awake. You should be awake too.” 

“Cleo,” Clarke groaned, the words ultimately dying on her lips out of sheer fatigue. 

The youngster began to try to wiggle out of her embrace, giving up with a huff as Clarke only held her tighter. “I’m bored. I’ve been up for years.”

“Unlikely,” Clarke laughed, finally opening her eyes to find a sharp blue pair staring right back at her. “Why don't you go find someone else to play with, huh?” She reached out her arm, smacking the bare space of mattress beside her. “Where’s your Papa?” Clarke asked. Then, sitting up, “Where are the boys?” 

“Secret,” Cleo whispered exaggeratedly, pushing her tiny finger to her pouted lips. “A big secret.”

“Oh really?” Clarke questioned, raising an eyebrow. “What secret?” 

“Can’t tell.” Cleo shook her head defiantly. 

The blonde might've been tired, but god she loved this kid so much.

Clarke rose her hand in the air, twinkling her fingers suggestively. “Will I have to tickle it out of you?” 

Cleo’s face erupted into a grin, giggling already even though Clarke hadn't even touched her yet. “Mama, no!” she squealed, trying to push her away once more. “I took an oath!” 

Laughing, Clarke’s fingers stilled. “Cleo, you’re three. How do you know what an oath is?”

There was this special glint in the little girls eyes, something that tugged hard at Clarke’s heart strings. “I don’t,” she admitted, squealing once more as she watched the fingers above her come closer towards her. “Papa made me, though.”

Clarke attacked, fingers running all over Cleo as she gasped with laughter, limbs flailing uncontrollably. “H-h-house,” the youngster breathed once Clarke relented, her chest rising and falling hard and fast. 

“House?”

The child let out an exhale, smiling still. “Papa’s building a house.” 

———-

Bellamy saw Cleo before he saw Clarke and he knew it was all over. The cabin was in no means finished, just a simple A frame he and the boys worked on in their spare time. Multiple cabins were already scattered around the camp grounds, but this one was different. This one was going to be theirs. 

“I told you she’s a blabbermouth,” Cas muttered, watching as the three year old ran towards Bellamy, being instantly scooped up in his arms. 

“Am not,” she retaliated, sticking out her tongue at the boy. 

“Are too.”

Bellamy sighed. “Stop it. She’s not a blabbermouth, Cas. And Cleo, put that tongue back in your mouth before a bird swoops down and takes it.”

The girl did what she was told instantly, eyes wide with terror as she searched the skies above, jaw clamped shut. 

That’ll teach her. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke breathed, suddenly right in front of him. “What’s this?” Her eyes quickly scanned the triangular structure, taking in the thick cedar trunks that had been put up already. There was no other cabin in camp like it, hidden from view by a thick patch of trees and bushes. 

The bastard had hidden it from her. 

“It’s a house,” he replied, rolling his eyes just a little as he dropped Cleo to the ground. The two kids instantly ran off, presumably to find Juni. “Well, it’s going to be a house.”

“I can see that,” Clarke spoke softly, taking a hesitant step towards him. “And who’s house will it be?”

Bellamy smiled, matching her step with his own. “I thought you were smarter than this, Clarke.”

“Say it,” Clarke whispered, chewing at her lip. “Please.”

He chuckled, cocking his head slightly to the side. “Clarke Griffin, will you live in this house with me?” 

The next thing he knew, Clarke had slammed her lips against his own, nearly knocking all of the wind from his lungs. Her arms reached up and tangled around his thick, strong neck. In an instant she was off of the ground, her legs tangling around his waist. There was no space between them, she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. She was safe, it was good. 

They had kissed before, but never had it ever been like this. 

“Why are they doing that?” Cleo asked Juniper quietly, peeking out from over the top of the windowsill. 

“Doing what?” he questioned, looking at her funny. 

“Putting their mouths together like that,” Cas supplied, equally confused. 

Juni only laughed. “It’s called kissing. People in love do it all the time.”

They examined them further, Cas and Cleo with a frown and Juni with a simple blank expression.

“Mama and Papa are so gross.” Cleo announced, shaking her head and looking away. “I’ll never do the kissing thing with someone. It looks yuck.” 

Juniper eyed the youngster, genuinely curious. “Why do you call them that? Mama and Papa?”

“Because they are,” she shrugged, unfazed. “They’re yours too.” 

“No, they're not. Clarke’s only eight years older than me.” He might’ve never had parents, but he wasn’t going to go and declare he found some after two people showed them some kindness. 

“What’s a Mama and Papa?” It was the same question Cleo had asked just a few weeks prior.

Cleo turned to Cas, frowning in deep thought as she tried to remember what Clarke had told her. She couldn’t. She tried her own definition. “Like a kind of love where you don't have to kiss on the mouth. They keep you safe, give you food and stuff.”

It was a pretty good attempt coming from a three year old.

“Just because they give you food and keep you safe doesn't make them your Mama and Papa,” Juni argued, suddenly defensive. “That’d make me your Papa, too.” 

Cleo shook her head. “No, you’re Juni. It’s different. They,” she pointed to the pair, “are my Mama and Papa.”

“They’re mine too,” Cassian piped up, glint in his eye as he tried the two words softly under his breath.

Cas and Cleo leaned their chins back against the windowsills in awe, spying further on Bellamy and Clarke as they held each other close, having a murmured and adult conversation.

They didn't notice Juniper leave. 

“They really are in love, aren't they?” Cas whispered, watching them kiss again for approximately the tenth time in the past five minutes. 

Cleo nodded, almost whacking her chin on the exposed wood. “The mostest,” she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> Yes! I’m still alive.
> 
> I might’ve lost track of time (I don’t even remember the last time I posted a chapter) and in all honesty I am so sorry. 
> 
> I’ll try to update more and more in the next few weeks as I have a lot more spare time!
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed. 
> 
> Xx
> 
> Sarah


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